


I Don't Want the World to See Me (Cause I Don't Think that They'd Understand)

by Cassiopeias_Sky



Series: When Everything's Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anything tagged in When Everything's Made to be Broken also applies here, Assault, Bucky's POV, Companion Piece, Death, Depictions of murder/death/assault/violence, Fluff, Murder, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Recovering!Bucky, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:09:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9099766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiopeias_Sky/pseuds/Cassiopeias_Sky
Summary: This is a companion piece to When Everything's Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am).  This is a series of short(ish) blurbs of the events of WEMtbB from Bucky's POV.  It probably will NOT work as a stand alone piece - you'll need to have read the main story for these to make sense.
These may not be written chronologically, and parts may be written/posted well after the scene occurred in WEMtbB.  I really just write them as they come to me.
In the notes for each chapter, there will be a brief description of when the scene takes place (i.e. Part 3 of WEMtbB).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at the end of Part 1/beginning of Part 2 of WEMtbB.

She vaguely reminded him of that redhead Steve used to tease him about – the one he spent a ridiculous amount of money trying to win the stuffed bear for. 

Back when he was still a man, and not a monster.

Only this girl – this girl was better. She didn’t really conform to the current time’s definition of pretty, but to Bucky she was breathtakingly, strikingly, exquisitely lovely, with long auburn hair, freckles, and hypnotizing eyes made up of warm brown, green, and gold. She was tall for a dame ( _woman_ , he reminded himself, people don’t use the word dame anymore), but also soft and curvy, not all planes and hard angles like was popular these days. No, he decides, this girl _doesn’t_ remind him of the redhead at the fair – that one didn’t hold a candle to the woman in front of him.

She was damn near perfect – if her hair had been curly instead of straight, he would have been convinced that she wasn’t real. As it was, she seemed to have stepped right out of his imagination; an apparition dreamed up decades ago to keep the desolate loneliness at bay during the long nights in between cryo, when he didn’t even have his memories to bring him comfort or solace. He may have forgotten everything else when he was recalibrated, but he never forgot her. 

How could he? She was never real.

This person standing in front of him, however, was real, and because of Stark’s unbelievable cockiness and some faulty intel, she was now on Krakken’s hit list. She’s holding herself together fairly well though, all things considered.

Bucky is satisfied with the plan that he’d worked out with Steve, especially since he has a tiny bit of control over the situation if he’s the one walking his girl out. The girl. Walking _the_ girl out.

The fact that Steve said they should pose as a couple, with Bucky holding her close as they walked so she could keep her face down, was just icing on the cake. He knows, deep down inside, that he should keep his distance. Being close to him will only end in her getting hurt – everyone close to him seems to get hurt, it’s why he’s better off alone – but he can’t help himself. Even if all he has is the ten minutes it will take to get her safely to the car, he’ll take it those brief minutes if it means he gets to hold her. 

“Hey.” He leans forward as he says her name, lightly grabbing her upper arm. “We’re gonna keep you safe – I promise. You’re not getting hurt under my watch.”

She nods as she meets his eyes – God, she’s brave. Too bad she’ll go back to being just a dream after his team gets her to safety. Then again, she’ll be better off that way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part takes place during Part 7 of WEMtbB.

He tries to focus on his task; stashing firearms and knives around the property should he need them unexpectedly, keeping them within easy access for him but difficult for little 3-year-old hands to reach. 

He’s also slightly modifying Starks’s security systems to better match his own particular level of paranoia; not that Stark isn’t paranoid enough, but in all honesty, he can take care of himself, so he really just has things set up to offer a warning. This isn’t good enough for Bucky.

Bucky tries to busy his mind and not think of her, but it’s just about impossible. _What is it about her that is so irresistible_? He has no idea. 

He puts in his earpiece to test frequencies on one of the audio feeds, and he has to quickly rip it out due to the high pitched screeching indicating either feedback or interference. Listening carefully, he hears a noise coming from the kitchen, so he heads that way.

Bucky is totally unprepared for the sight that greets him when he walks through the door, and the onslaught of feelings are almost unbearable.

Flour, sugar, butter, and eggs are all on the counter. She’s… _baking_. At a time like this. The rush of familiarity almost makes his legs give way, and it’s a second before he fully realizes what he’s feeling.

He feels like he’s coming home. _She_ feels like _home_.

He takes a moment to watch her, to take it all in, before he opens his mouth to speak.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? AND WHAT IS THAT GODDAMN NOISE?”

Well, that wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to be loud so she would hear him, but he wasn’t trying to be an ass. It’s like he’s 12 years old, trying to talk to a girl, and since he can’t find the right words his brain just blurts out things he doesn’t mean to say.

He feels even worse when he realizes that he scared her; that was definitely not his intention.

When she turns, he fights back a smile when he sees that she has a streak of flour across her cheek; it’s incredibly endearing.

“I’m stress baking cupcakes, is that okay with you?” Her sassy tone makes him feel better – he may have startled her, but she doesn’t seem to be afraid of _him_. He doesn’t know why, but he finds that comforting.

Bucky wants to apologize, but that’s not what his brain comes up with. “It’s loud.” 

Really, brain, that’s all you can come up with??

The exchange continues, and he almost loses it and bursts out laughing when he finds out that she named the mixer, although he’s aware that completely misses the reference to the name. Bucky doesn’t want her to think that he’s laughing at her, so he bites it back.

He gets so flustered that he ends up stalking outside when their exchange is finished… _why_ is he _such_ an ass to her?

***

A few hours later, Bucky is up on a ladder, replacing a bit of wiring he found had been chewed through – most likely by a squirrel.

He hears her come out, but keeps focused on his task; she’s probably just looking around. He’s certainly given her no reason to come looking for him, so he’s surprised when she says his name.

“Everything ok?” he asks – he knows she’s not out here to talk to him for fun. Why would she?

“Yeah, I, uh, I just thought you might like a cupcake.” He freezes – that was completely unexpected. “And, um, I’m really sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to get snarky with you.”

_She’s_ sorry? She didn’t do anything wrong - _he_ was the ass! He wants to tell her that, but his mouth won’t obey. Given the things that have come out of it earlier, it’s probably a good thing.

He’s afraid to even look at her, afraid to do or say something to scare her away, so he stares at the wiring above him, but he sees in his peripheral vision that she places a cupcake on one of the rungs of the ladder.

_She brought him a cupcake_?!? And then she invited him to eat with her little family. He almost can’t believe it. Didn’t she know she was inviting a monster to her dinner table?

He doesn’t have the courage to move until she turns and walks away, and he belatedly realizes that he didn’t even give her the courtesy of a reply. God, he’s such an ass. Since her back is turned, he takes the opportunity to wistfully gaze at her until she enters the house.

Bucky looks down at the sweetly decorated cupcake – she’d even put sprinkles on it. He smiles for the first time as he picks it up. Maybe he can still make things right, he muses as he takes a bite, and the combination of her unexpected kindness and the cupcake gives him the courage to shut down the part of his brain that tells him how awful he is. Yes, he can apologize.

Before he goes in to speak with her, he gets an idea, so he pulls out his phone to call Stark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during the very very end of Part 8, and continues through the early part of Part 9 of WEMtbB.

He watches her walk upstairs, the ache in his heart growing with every step she takes. He's only known her for such a short while - how does she feel like home? And why does he feel homesick when she's not in the same room as him? 

He finishes his two cupcakes at the table while thinking of how she brought him that first cupcake. He smiles and shakes his head at the memory. He's glad he found the courage to apologize. 

Bucky grabs another two on his way out of the kitchen and eats them as he does his nightly double check of the area, almost dropping one when a deer leaps across his path unexpectedly. 

All is good outside, so he makes his way back in. Bucky isn't ready to go up to his room; somehow being in her favorite area of the house makes him feel less lonely so he sits at the kitchen table and has another set of cupcakes and thinks. He thinks about her. He thinks about his mother, and how she used to say that the kitchen was the heart of the home, and how even in the middle of a crisis or painful time a family meal can bring about normalcy and solidity to a tumultuous situation. When Steve’s mom passed away, Bucky’s mom insisted that he spent most Sundays at the Barnes’ home for Sunday dinner.

Yes, he thinks, his mom would have liked her. _Loved_ her, actually. 

Two more cupcakes later, he's finally ready to face the loneliness of his bedroom.

* * *

He still smells the coppery scent of the blood of the family he murdered when he awakes with a jolt. He can still feel the hot, sticky liquid on his hand, and he turns on all the lights to make sure it's not real, that it is in fact just a nightmare. Well, technically a memory, but it isn’t a reality right now. 

He looks at his hand a third and fourth time, just to be sure. 

He heads downstairs to the kitchen - if he can't be near her, this is the next best thing. He'll just have another cupcake...or two... 

He hears her before he sees her - and he doesn't mean to, but he startles her when she opens the refrigerator door. She wants to know if he's okay. Is he? Does he dare to hope that she really cares? That this isn’t just the polite thing for her to ask?

He's a little better now, because even in the dim room she brings a bit of light, but he can't tell her that. He tells her lots of other things, though. Things he's never told anyone other than Steve, and things he's never told anyone – not even Steve. 

She takes it all in, doesn't judge him or look at him with pity in her eyes. And then she tells him that he's not a monster. He wants to believe her so badly...and he's surprised that maybe he does, just a little. 

When she goes to bed, he feels lighter than he has in 70 years. He has another cupcake. He pulls his phone out of his pocket when it vibrates- it's a message from Tony, saying that he'll he here in about an hour with the materials Bucky had asked for earlier. Bucky shoots back an acknowledgment before grabbing the container with the rest of the cupcakes and going outside. 

He spends the next hour intermittently snacking and selecting and clearing a spot for the new swing set - he hopes it will make up for some of the crappy situation. He'd do damn near anything to see her smile, and double that to see her smile at _him_. He goes to grab another cupcake - it's the last one. He savors this one before bringing the container into the house and washing it before putting it away. 

Tony pulls in, and they get to work assembling the swing set.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during the first part of Part 12 of WEMtbB.

Bucky is downstairs in the gym area, rearranging some equipment to open the floor up a bit to make room for training. As he moves things, he thinks back to this morning.

_She’d stayed with him the entire night_. He still can’t wrap his brain around it, and he’s _sure_ that her neck has to hurt from the way she slept, but she didn’t say a word about it. He woke up with his head in her lap and had to turn immediately to make sure she was really there. She was.

He shakes his head at the memory – God, she’s fucking incredible. The way she’d helped him through his panic attack…he usually can’t go back to sleep when he has one of those, but because she was there…he could, and did. And she doesn’t treat him like he’s just a busted shell of a man that needs to be handled with kid gloves, she just treats him like a normal person that’s having a bad day; he’s never seen even the tiniest trace of pity or condescension in her eyes. He’d know it if it were there; he sees it almost every damn day from his teammates.

He generally tries not to focus too much on his feelings and emotions; they’re still confusing and a little overwhelming after not being allowed to have them for so long (but he’s working on it), however there’s one thing he’s absolutely sure of. It happened so quickly, but he knows just as surely as he knows the sun rises in the east and sets in the west that he lo –

“OH GOD!” Her scream of terror tears him away from his thoughts as he races to her, taking the steps two and three at a time as he draws a firearm.

Get to her, protect her, get to her _now_! are the only thoughts he can recognize until he finds her standing in the kitchen, seemingly unharmed.

He looks around but can’t find any obvious threats.

The feeling of relief that washes over him when he realizes the reason for her scream is just a spider (a pretty fucking big spider, but still just a spider) almost makes him dizzy. His leftover adrenaline comes out rather gruffly, “Okay, fucking really?! You gave me a goddamn heart attack over –“ until he turns around.

The look on her face…she’s paralyzed with fear, and he sees tears in her eyes. Tears. 

Oh, hell no. That spider is going _down_. Nothing is allowed to make his girl cry… _nothing_. Bucky grabs a paper towel and kills the offending creature, rushing over to her and wrapping her in his arms as soon as he’s done.

And then he comforts her.

_He_ comforts _her_.

No one else in his current existence has allowed him this simple pleasure – to comfort – because no one else trusts him enough. Even Steve doesn’t usually allow Bucky to do this; if the opportunity arises, he almost always ends up saying something about how Bucky has been through enough, is still healing emotionally, and shouldn’t be burdened with anyone else’s problems. It makes Bucky feel as if his relationships with other people are all very one sided, but his calling bullshit on Steve’s logic made no difference in how anyone interacted with him.

So Bucky holds her, and comforts her…and she allows him to do so without reservation. With this simple trust that she has placed in him, Bucky can feel tiny pieces of his dislocated soul start to knit together again.

After he successfully calms her down, Bucky decides that he wants to do something for her so he offers to make dinner. _She actually lets him_. He was prepared to argue for it – he’s got to hand it her, she’s got a stubborn independent streak that rivals Steve’s from what he’s observed - but he didn’t have to.

He seriously doubts that she has any idea what that does for him. He wants to take care of them – all of them. He wants to _reciprocate_. If he’s truthful with himself, he wants a place in this family, even if she only accepts him as a friend.

He makes his specialty – breakfast – because who doesn’t like breakfast? There’s bacon. And pancakes and hash browns…and bacon (what can he say, he loves bacon). What’s not to love?

Calling the boys to the table, he seats them across from one another so he can help feed one of them. She’s mentioned that they like him; he’s already pretty damn fond of them, too, so why not give her a break? Maybe her food will actually be hot when she eats it instead of lukewarm.

She hasn’t come to the table yet, so he goes to check on her and finds her sleeping peacefully. Bucky kneels down and shamelessly takes the opportunity to stare at her, trying to memorize the curve of her cheek, the softness of her lips, the sweep of her lashes, and the placement of her freckles. She’s so beautiful…and he has the distinct feeling that she hasn’t the slightest idea of how gorgeous she is. 

“Bucky…we’re hungry!” shouts one of the boys.

“Be right there buddy, just gotta get your mom,” he replies, and gently places his hand on her knee to wake her. 

The way she slowly wakes up…he _definitely_ wants to see that again. The way she smiled at him when he let her know dinner was ready, and that the kids were already at the table…he’d give just about anything, including his right arm, to see it again. And the way she says his name…that’s the moment he realizes how far gone he truly is.

Fuck. He’s in so much trouble. So. Much. Trouble. It’s clichéd and incredibly unprofessional (can he get fired for this?) because he is here to do a job, but oh fucking well. 

He knows he should keep his hands to himself as he walks her to the table, but it’s as if they move of their own volition; he couldn’t help but put his hand on the small of her back. He’s just being polite; this is what gentlemen do, he reasons as he pulls out her chair.

She verbalizes his thoughts as she sits, and he winks at her. WINKS at her. What the fuck, brain? Why did it make his eye just do that? What if he just creeped her out?

But…did she just blush? She did. God, it’s fucking adorable. And he can see out of his peripheral vision, as he cuts up Artie’s food, that she’s watching him. He was an assassin for 70 years; he’s got mad skills in observation – he knows what he sees. So does her gaze mean…anything? Maybe…maybe she..? No. He’s not that lucky. But…maybe?

Bucky’s hope is more or less extinguished less than two minutes later. Something about the sight of cutting Artie’s food upset her, and he hasn’t the vaguest idea what. He recognizes the look on her face, however, as one he’s seen in the mirror too many times. 

She’s haunted by something. He decides to give her some space and hope that she’ll open up to him when she’s ready.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during Part 18 of WEMtbB.

It doesn’t take long to get the boys dressed for the day and fed; they really are incredibly good kids – it goes without saying that they have an incredibly amazing mom, Bucky thinks to himself as he and Steve start cleaning up the kitchen.

Steve glances over to the boys to make sure they are thoroughly occupied with their toys before speaking. “So…have you told her yet?”

Bucky looks up in surprise. “Told her what? She already knows everyth-“

“That you love her,” Steve interrupts, somewhat impatiently.

Bucky stands for a moment, speechless.

“She might not know what it means when you call her your best girl, but I do.” He raises an eyebrow in challenge at this best friend. “And seeing you two together – there’s no doubt in my mind. You love her.”

“Well…I…uh…” Bucky stutters – he wasn’t really expecting this conversation.

“Well what, Buck?”

“No, I haven’t told her yet,” Bucky admits, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, why not?” Steve gives his friend the Eyebrows of Disapproval. Bucky usually just rolls his eyes when he is at the receiving end of Steve’s patented expression, but this time he squirms under the weight of Steve’s stare.

“I…I don’t want to scare her away. It’s just…it happened really fast and I don’t want to put any pressure on her.” Bucky can’t look Steve in the eye when he continues, “And what if she doesn’t feel the same way? I mean, I _think_ she does – I know she cares about me – she’s told me that, but –“ He pauses to take a deep breath, “Her last relationship really did a number on her…I don’t want to push her too far if she’s not ready. Stevie, I’ll break if I lose her.”

Steve’s expression softens. “I know, Tony mentioned something about that. But Buck, if what I saw this morning is any indication, she’s absolutely crazy about you. That’s not why I bring it up, though.”

Bucky releases the breath he’s been holding, “Okay, so why are you bringing it up?”

“For your sake – you deserve to tell her how you feel. Buck, there are no guaranteed tomorrows in what we do. We can do everything in our power to keep her safe, but we have to face the reality that it might not be enough. Krakken might be able to get to her.” Bucky clenches his jaw at Steve’s statement, but Steve continues. “Or we might be able to save her but lose you in the process. Look, Buck, I got lucky with Peggy. She went seventy years without really knowing how I felt about her, but she was still here when I got back so I got the chance to finally tell her; that’s a regret that I don’t have to live with. I got lucky, Buck. That doesn’t always happen. Do you want to lose her and live with the fact that you never told her how you feel? Or have her live the rest of her life without you, and without knowing how you really felt?”

Bucky hangs his head and doesn’t respond.

“You know, this conversation aside, I haven’t seen you like this since before the war. She brings something out in you that you’d lost, that had been taken from you – it’s like you’re _you_ again,” Steve admits.

Bucky huffs out a brief laugh. “Yeah, I don’t know how she does it…but…God, I don’t even know how to explain it. She doesn’t make the bad things go away, they’re still there, but somewhere in these past few weeks I’ve started to stop punishing myself for them. She doesn’t pretend that those things don’t exist – she acknowledges them – and she _accepts_ them.” Bucky pauses to shake his head. “She knows about all of the horrific shit I’ve done, and she still cares about me. I…I don’t know. I guess I can explain it this way; the more I love her, the less I focus on hating myself. And the fact that she trusts me…Stevie…I can’t even tell you what that means to me.”

“I trust you, Buck –“

“To a point,” Bucky interrupts.

“What? No, I –“

“No, Steve, you trust me _to a point_. You trust me to do my job, and you trust me to have your back when we’re in the field, but that’s about it. You and everyone else treats me like I’m gonna break if someone else has a bad day – everyone, you _included_ , tiptoes around me emotionally. You know, we talk a lot about the times before the war, and occasionally about what happened to me, but you never really talked to me about Peggy and how that loss hurt you - you talked to Nat about that. You completely shut me out because you thought I couldn’t handle it.” He shakes his head, “You thought I couldn’t handle being a friend to my best friend.”

“Bucky, you were –“

“Already dealing with so much,” Bucky finishes sardonically, “I know. That’s what everyone keeps telling me. But tell me then, please, how the hell am I supposed to pick up the pieces and move past what happened when the person closest to me won’t let me be his friend? All that does is remind me that I’m broken.”

It’s silent for a few moments before Steve replies. “But she lets you, doesn’t she.” It isn’t even a question, so Steve doesn’t voice it as such.

“Yeah, she does. It’s just a small part of why I love her, but it means so damn much to me. First she became a friend, then a close friend, and now she’s tied with you for the top spot,” Bucky admits with a shake of his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without her – I’m actually starting to feel like a complete person again because of her.

Steve lets out a pained sigh. “I’ve been a stupid jerk.”

“Yeah, you have. You’ve been a little punk,” Bucky confirms.

Nodding his head, Steve finally understands. “It starts here, Buck. I won’t shut you out anymore.”

“Thank you,” Bucky replies, and he means it.

Steve levels a look in Bucky’s direction. “You need to tell her.”

Nodding, Bucky grabs Steve by the arms and holds them behind the blonde man’s back. “Hey guys, guess what?” he calls out to the twins, gaining their attention as he pushes Steve into the living room. “Stevie here is ticklish!!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during Part 27 of WEMtbB.

Bucky’s eyes open with a snap.

_Something’s wrong._

He holds perfectly still, listening, waiting to see whatever it is that told him to wake up. Years of training and honed instincts are stupid to ignore, and he’s always been best served by following them. He’s nothing if not a good soldier.

Bucky takes a mental inventory. He’s in bed, wrapped around her as she sleeps. She’s got her back against his chest, and he can feel the rise and fall of her breathing. Okay.

He’s hot; uncomfortably so. Was that it? No.

Glancing at the clock, he sees that it’s just after two in the morning. He slowly and carefully pulls away from her, doing his best not to disturb her. Bucky allows himself the briefest of smiles when he thinks of their activities not so long ago – she definitely needs her sleep after that, so it doesn’t surprise him when she doesn’t wake with his movements. 

God, how he loves this woman.

Throwing off the covers to allow the cool air to hit his overheated body, he stops again to listen once he’s seated at the edge of the bed. Nothing.

Bucky deftly grabs the firearm hidden behind his nightstand and tucks it into the waistband of his sweatpants before also taking a knife stashed nearby.

He does a quick walk around the master suite, checking windows and doors as he goes. Okay.

Bucky quietly walks up to the door and opens it, listening again. Nothing.

He pads softly across to the boys’ bedroom door, and silently enters their room. Bucky checks both of them, listening and feeling their chests carefully for their even breathing. Okay. Good.

Checking their windows and doors just as he did his own room, he finds nothing, so he exits as silently as he entered.

_What was it that woke him up_?

Bucky quickly checks the rest of the floor but doesn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Tony’s workshop is quiet behind the closed door, so he doesn’t disturb him; the man doesn’t sleep much, and Bucky isn’t about to wake him unless he knows what’s wrong.

He pads downstairs, going straight to the formal dining room where Steve is currently doing surveillance.

“Hey Buck, can’t sleep?” the blonde asks as he turns to greet his friend; he’d seen him coming on the video feed. “Did you have a nightmare?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

“No,” Bucky shakes his head, worry clearly etched into his face. “There’s something wrong, but I can’t figure it out.”

Steve’s eyebrows go up, “Cameras don’t show any movement but you inside or outside the house; well, except for camera fourteen. It went down about twenty minutes ago.” 

Bucky shoots him a look. “Any reason why?”

Steve shrugs. “There wasn’t any movement around any of the surrounding cameras; I reviewed the footage. It’s possible the battery just went dead. Since you’re up, I’ll go and take a look, if you want.”

“I think I’d feel better,” Bucky admits with a nod.

Steve stands and reaches for his jacket. “You’ve got a beautiful girl upstairs that loves you, go be with her. I’ve got this covered, Buck, it’s why I’m here; I’m the first line of defense, you’re the second. Anything or anyone that wants to hurt her or the boys has to get through me first, and don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not the only one that cares about them. We all do, and we’ll all go down fighting before letting anyone get close enough to hurt them. God help anyone that gets through us and has to deal with _you_.” He pauses for just a moment before continuing, “You’re being too cautions, Buck, go back to bed.”

“You know I don’t believe there’s such a thing as being too cautious.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I picked up on that. That’s why I’m going out to check a camera that isn’t critical at two in the morning.”

“You’re a punk,” Bucky says, words at odds with his affectionate tone.

“Yeah, well you’re a jerk,” Steve retorts in the exact same tone while zipping his jacket.

Bucky watches him leave before going back up the stairs. He just can’t shake the feeling.

_Something’s wrong._

He rushes back up to the bedroom, suddenly feeling an urgent need to be by her side. When he gets there, she’s still sleeping, but not quite as peacefully as before; it seems like she’s having a dream.

He quietly tucks the gun and knife back into their hiding spots before crawling back into bed. Turning onto his side, he reaches under the covers to pull her close and tuck her into his embrace.

_Something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong_!

He knows it the moment he touches her, and he wonders why he didn’t notice it right away. But he did notice it…he’d just thought that he was hot. He didn’t realize that the reason he was so warm was because of her. Her skin is hot to the touch, and he wonders how she can sleep.

Bucky throws off the covers and tries to wake her. “Doll, are you okay?” She doesn’t respond, so he gently shakes her shoulder. “Sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart.” He tries again, but again no response. He feels his heartbeat speed up, and he knows. 

_This is wrong._

He puts his hand to her forehead, and takes it away immediately, “God, you’re burning up…wake up, Sweetheart.”

She still doesn’t she respond – _why won’t she wake up_? Bucky shakes her just a bit harder before rolling her onto her back. He takes a deep breath, afraid of what he might find, before he lowers his ear to her chest to listen to her heartbeat.

What he hears sends him into a panic; instead of the strong, steady rhythm he’d listened to on so many occasions during so many moments of sleeplessness or intimacy, he hears a faint and erratic staccato.

His own heart beats painfully inside his chest as he leans over to turn on a light.

“Please, wake up!”

He needs help; he doesn’t know what to do. Why won’t she wake up? Bucky jumps out of bed and bolts toward Stark’s workshop. He needs her, he can’t live without her, he…he just _needs_ her.

“Stark!” He knocks roughly on the door, and he’s about to barge in when the door swings open.

“What the hell –“

Bucky gasps out her name, and Stark is immediately wide awake. “She’s running a fever, I think, she’s really hot and I can’t wake her up!” The fear in his voice is palpable.

“Grab the boys’ thermometer and meet me in your room – I need to get my phone in case we need to call Banner.” The sentence isn’t even out of Stark’s mouth before Bucky is running to get the thermometer.

They reach the bedroom at the same time, and Bucky chokes out her name, hoping, _praying_ that she’ll respond. But she doesn’t.

Stark reaches to touch her forehead while Bucky fumbles with the thermometer, “You’re right – I’ll get Banner on the phone while you take her temp.”

Bucky takes a deep breath to steady himself, trying to remember how she’d used it. Press the button as it touches skin and then swipe, right? Right. He ignores the sound of Stark and Banner talking in the background.

The number flashes up. “God, that _can’t_ be right,” he mutters to himself. Is it even possible to have a fever that high? He swipes again, heart in his throat, and gets the same reading. “ _FUCK_! Banner, her temp is 106.7, what the fuck do I do?” He can’t lose her, he can’t lose her…he just _can’t_.

Now that he’s had her, knows what it’s like to love her and be loved by her, _he cannot live this life without her_. He can’t. He _won’t._

He’s a trained soldier, hell, he’s a fucking former assassin, but his training is now failing him miserably. He needs to stay calm, he needs to think clearly, he certainly should not be panicking…but he can’t help it. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him that this is serious – this isn’t the flu or some kind of cold. His instincts are screaming at him that if they don’t do something, and quickly, she’ll die.

He’s never felt so helpless or useless in his entire life.

“Barnes, bring her into the bathroom!” The sound of Stark’s voice snaps him out of his internal whirlwind, and he’s thankful for the direction he’s been given. It’s action – bringing her into the bathroom is doing something. 

Bucky gently but quickly scoops her up and carries her into the bathroom, understanding immediately what it is that Stark intends to do. He can do this. 

He sees Stark waiting to support her, so he sets her down at the edge of the tub and allows her to shift toward the other man while he gets into the lukewarm water, nodding as Stark instructs him in what he already knows to do, “Get in so you can cradle her from behind and keep her head up.”

Together they manage to get her into the water so she’s lying against and being supported by Bucky, but the second she’s submerged she _screams_. Bucky’s heard many screams over the years – he knows the sound of pain when he hears it – and it feels like his heart breaks in two at the sound. 

She’s not supposed to hurt like this. He promised her that he’d protect her.

“You’re okay, Sweetheart, you’re gonna be okay…I’ve got you…” he murmurs in her ear, hoping that somehow she can hear him, that she knows he’s right here with her – that she knows he’ll _always_ be right here with her. He’ll walk through Hell with her if that’s where she chooses to go.

“Momma?”

Oh God, no, the boys can’t see their mom like this, _fuck_ , he doesn’t know what to say to help them. Bucky can almost taste the relief when Steve walks into the room, and with just a few instructions from Stark, ushers the frightened kids out with promises of a movie and ice cream.

It’s suddenly eerily quiet; she’s stopped screaming. Bucky feels a moment of choking panic as he meets Stark’s equally terrified eyes, and quickly reaches to check for a pulse. At the feel of her unsteady and weak heartbeat, he releases a wordless sigh that lets Stark know that she’s just unconscious.

“I’m here, Sweetheart,” he murmurs into her ear, “I’m not going anywhere. I love you, just hang on, okay? For me?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place right after Part 32 of WEMtbB

She’s all warm skin and soft curves underneath him, the perfect complement to his own hard and unyielding form. She smiles at him like he can save the world. He _feels_ like he can save the world. He’s not a monster anymore. Was he ever? Oh…right. But he doesn’t do that anymore. He became a man again when she tamed the ugly things inside him and silenced the screeching demons in his brain, simply by loving and accepting the parts of himself that he used to run away from.

There’s a buzzing in his head, and suddenly she’s gone. That’s okay; Bucky somehow realizes he’s just on the other side of sleep, and he smiles as he rolls over. He’ll just reach for her…pull her close and tuck her into his embrace…holding her awake is so much better than any dream could ever be. He would know because she’s his dream come true. And maybe…his smile grows even as his eyes remain closed…well, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken her just to make love to her.

But his arm reaches, and then reaches further. She’s not there.

Her side of the bed is cold.

He continues to wake up slowly, but not in a good way. His body fights something…what…right. He’d gone batshit crazy when the car drove away, taking his heart away from him. Barton or Wilson – one of those bastards shot him with a tranquilizer. That explains the grogginess.

Bucky fights to become more aware. He’s in bed. He’s in _their_ bed. If he inhales he can smell her on the pillow next to him. Reality comes crashing in, and God, _it hurts so fucking much._

Krakken made him collar her, like she was nothing but a fucking animal.

And it’s a goddamn _explosive_ collar. And they made _him_ put it on her. He’d had no choice.

_He…he’d put a fucking explosive collar around the neck of the woman he loves._

And then…

_…Krakken took her away, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it._

Is he drowning? The fear, horror, and sorrow make it almost impossible to breathe, and he can’t find anything to hold on to since they took her away from him. 

Or is he in hell? The burning rage is all consuming, and he’s not sure he’ll survive the flames.

Where is she? Is she still alive? Have those fuckers _hurt_ her?? What if there isn’t a cure? 

Bucky forces himself to sit up; the room spins, but he keeps himself planted. Looking to the side as he sweeps the hair out of his face, he sees his combat gear sitting out on the chair by the door; the message is perfectly clear. It’s time to get moving. 

It’s time to be the monster again, but this time he’ll _embrace_ it. He’ll know exactly what he’s doing, and why. This time, when people die, it’s going to be _his_ choice. He knows, he just _knows_ that they’re doing this because they want the Winter Soldier. They’re using _her_ to get _him._

They want the Winter Soldier? They’re going to _get_ the Winter Soldier.

And they’re going to fucking regret it.

He’ll move heaven and earth and walk through hell to get her back, and by the time he’s done the world will have received a clear message that she is _not_ to be messed with.

No one will ever take her from his side again.

Bucky slowly makes his way to the chair, feeling his body fight through the effects of the sedating drug with every step. It won’t be long and he’ll be fully functional again – the serum will see to that.

It takes him longer than usual to don the tactical gear (not a quick task even on a good day given the amount of strategically placed kevlar), but he manages. 

Bucky no longer has an improvised suit; it’s now an official uniform that somewhat resembles what he used to wear as the Winter Soldier; well, the placement of the weapons, anyway. He hated it at first, _hated_ the familiarity of it, but Stark made a good point – it was efficient and specifically designed to accommodate his skillset and fighting style. And now he will put it to good use. He will be lethal. Unmerciful. Vengeful. 

Fully dressed, he begins to arm himself.

Utility belt with grenades and ammo.

Two knives at his lower back, one on his hip, and one tucked into the inside of each combat boot.

Two pistols on his right thigh, one on his left. 

Back mounted submachine gun.

“Just hold on, Sweetheart, I’m coming to get you,” he whispers as he tucks his dog tags into his suit, “I’m going to bring you back home.”

By now he’s entirely cleared of sedation, so he makes his way out of their room and downstairs to find everyone waiting for him, already dressed in their own customized combat gear.

Stark is in his suit as well, minus the faceplate, and deliberately walks up to Bucky.

“Are you ready to go get our girl back?” There’s a steely and almost bloodthirsty determination in Stark’s eyes and voice that Bucky fully appreciates; they’re going to have to be all in to get this done.

He nods. 

He’s ready.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during Part 36 of When Everything's Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am)

“I hate this,” Bucky mumbles to himself as he places the headset over his disheveled hair. “Fucking _hate_ it.”

“I know, Buck, but they can't know you're here.” Steve fixes his friend with an apologetic look. “You'll still see her, and you'll see and hear everything we do.”

“But she won't be able to see _me_ , Steve. She's got to be fucking terrified!” His voice echoes in the small bedroom; it’s just big enough for the full sized bed that’s pushed against the far wall, the desk holding a small array of A/V equipment, and a chair. With the addition of the three men it's damn near claustrophobic - Stark is practically standing in the closet.

“I know, I _know_. We just...this is the best plan we could come up with.” Steve sounds unsure; so unlike him. Bucky knows he’s not lying - it is the best plan they could come up with - but it’s a shitty-ass plan. Hell, they still have to wing most of it, but it’s going to work. He’s going to _make_ it work.

“She's gonna think I abandoned her.” Bucky swallows hard and it tastes like failure. He promised to keep her safe, and that that she wouldn't get hurt. 

Failure. 

“No, Buck. She'd never think that - she knows better. She knows _you_. She knows you’re coming, Buck, she _knows_.” Steve’s words do little to console the searing agony in his soul. 

“She has faith in you, Barnes, and that faith is not misplaced. We’re gonna get her back.” Stark nods to himself as he speaks, and Bucky isn’t entirely sure who he’s trying to convince. “But our options are extremely limited - their plan is airtight and they’re playing dirty. So we're gonna play dirty, too.” 

***

Bucky watches the screen intently as the call connects, and the black gives way to what looks to be a formal dining room; he starts carefully mapping out the area he can see. It's fucking _ugly_. He thinks about the things she would say about the space, and it almost makes him chuckle.

Almost. 

There's a long table made out of dark wood that probably seats 20, but there are only four place settings; the head of the table, two on the side to the right of the head, and one to the left. There's a fireplace behind the table that's burning at full force, and a shashka hanging over the mantle. He takes special note of the weapon before looking for others; there are none that he can see with his limited view, but of course that doesn’t mean much. 

He quickly checks the clock - a little after 7 pm - it's dinner time. 

Bucky hears voices, but he can't actually see anyone until Anatoliy saunters in front of the camera with a cheeky grin. 

“Where is she?” Stark’s voice comes through the headset - he doesn't hedge, he asks the question that Bucky so desperately needs the answer for. 

“Nicolai did not want her to arrive unaccompanied - she is but a little fox in a den of hounds, after all. He will escort her in shortly.” And with that, Anatoliy walks out of the frame.

Sick fucks. It's enough to make Bucky see red.

His tight muscles coil with the need for action, but right now he can't do anything to vent his fury; he can't scream his outrage or punch a wall, he can't bust into the room where Steve and Stark are on the call to tell those fucks that he will personally kill each and every one of them that touches her. He can't do _anything_ because the Krakkens can't know he's still with his team. 

She walks into view; he finally has eyes on her for the first time in over a week. Bucky's breath hitches and his heart constricts painfully - she’s being so incredibly brave, but he knows her. She's fucking _terrified_. 

She’s in a dress and heels, and her hair is styled. He leans in closer to the screen to take a better look at her and realizes that she's completely made up. He knows that she wears makeup, but she usually keeps it fairly subtle and light, really just accentuating her eyes. This, however, is not subtle. 

They made her do this. They're showing her off, letting those men gawk at her, ogle her, _covet_ her. She's a prize to them - an _incentive_ \- and it makes Bucky sick to his stomach. Then he hears the catcalls, and God, the comments they’re making... 

He's going to kill each and every one of them.

She's finally seated; he sees her take in her surroundings with guarded glances before focusing on the table in front of her.

“Alright, as you can see, lisichka is alive and well.”

Bucky is damn sure she’s not ‘well,’ but she’s alive. She’s _alive_. And they call her _lisichka_? 

_Fucking sick fucks_. 

For the first time since she entered the room, she notices the screen. Her face lights up for just a moment before her entire countenance falls. She’s looking for him, but he’s not there. God, he wants to run into the other room, to shout that he's right here, that he's coming… but he can't. He _can't_. They only have one chance to get this right - one chance to get her back. The Krakkens have been too thorough, and there's no room at all for error. 

_I’m here, Sweetheart, I’m right here_ ; he wills her to feel him, to somehow hear his thoughts. _You’ll see me soon, I promise. I’m coming for you._

Anatoliy walks over to her - and touches her. He fucking _touches_ her. He runs his finger along her shoulder and stops only when his hand is resting over her throat.

_Anatoliy is gonna lose that goddamn hand._

Then he’s going to die. But first, he will beg - _God, will he beg._

He leans over until his face is hidden in her neck, and Bucky hears her distressed cry before Anatoliy moves to whisper something in her ear.

Bucky needs...he needs to do something with his hands...he finds them pulling at his hair. He’s barely holding it together.

He can’t watch this anymore; he can’t watch the way she’s being treated, the way she’s so fucking terrified that she can hardly move. He can’t watch her look for him, desperately searching for his face and wondering where the fuck he is while she waits alone in hell.

But he can’t look away, either.

Barton quietly walks in, making just enough noise to alert Bucky to his presence. “Maybe you shouldn't be watching this.”

The only response Bucky gives is to hold up a hand to signal for silence. 

He almost loses it when Anatoliy puts an arm around her and leans in close, again whispering something in her ear that causes her to visibly tremble. Bucky tenses, and he’s about to - 

Barton reaches over and unplugs the monitor; half a heartbeat later, Bucky’s got his hand around Barton’s throat for taking away the only view he’s had of her in well over a week.

“Hey man, Barton’s not the one you’re mad at,” Wilson swiftly enters and closes the door behind him. “You’re going to compromise the plan if they hear you, so it’s probably for the best that you don’t watch this right now. Stark’s got it recording, so you can review it later when there’s no worry about them hearing you break shit. Hell, I’ll _help_ you break shit.”

Wilson’s logic makes sense, but that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier. Bucky releases his hold on Barton’s neck with a strangled apology.

“It’s alright, Barnes,” Barton murmurs as he runs a hand through his hair. “It’s alright. I want her back, too.”

And so they wait.

***

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He’s watched the recording no less than 15 times, and he gets more furious with each viewing. And God, he’s never felt so fucking _helpless_ in his entire goddamn life.

And what the fuck did they mean by “he's not as impervious as he believes himself to be?”

He’s been going over the plan...over and over and over...God, he wishes they could come up with something better. He knows he should be trying to sleep instead, but what’s the point? He hasn’t slept more than a couple of hours each night since she was taken, if even that, because he just can’t sleep without being wrapped around her or having her curled into his side. Not only that, but his nightmares have come back in full force. They were never completely eradicated - the reality is that he’ll probably have them for the rest of his life - but they were minimal, just one or two a week. And since she’d been able to calm him and get him back to sleep after, they had stopped being such a big deal. WIthout her, though, he can’t go back to sleep...if he can even fall asleep in the first place.

Truth be told, he prefers those nightmares over the one he’s currently living.

A glance at the clock tells him that it’s almost time; no point in putting it off. Bucky closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and looks for the Soldier. He’s still there, tucked away in the recesses of Bucky’s mind - it’s time to bring him to the forefront. This time, Bucky won’t fight it. This time, the Soldier is the Komandir; master of himself.

|Komandir - Commander

Embrace the cold. Be emotionless. Be merciless. Be efficient. Resourceful. Cunning. Analytical. Brutal. Fast. Fearless. Ruthless. 

Lethal. 

Who would have thought that his only hope would like within his own darkness?

He hears the creaks of someone - it’s Steve, he decides a moment later - walking up the stairs. “Buck, you really should come down and eat something. You’re gonna need it.”

Bucky nods woodenly; Steve’s right, so he pushes himself off the bed and follows his friend downstairs.

Stark and Nat are standing in the living area, dressed to the nines; he’s in a three piece suit and she’s wearing a stunning cocktail dress that Bucky is sure somehow manages to conceal no less than 4 weapons.

“Hey.” Bucky looks up to see Stark approaching him. “I won’t see you again before you leave...but, uh,” he looks lost for words for a moment, but only a moment. “You got this, Barnes. You’re gonna get her back.”

“Yes. I am.” Or he’ll die trying.

“You know what I need?”

Bucky nods. “Not sure how I’m gonna get it yet, but I’ll figure it out, and I’ll find a way to get it to you.”

They nod at each other in a silent agreement as Stark shuts off the machine that is still projecting an image of a large window overlooking the New York skyline.

There’s no animosity at all remaining between the two of them; they’re united together in a common cause, and God help anyone that tries to get in their way.

Stark straightens his tie before adjusting his cufflinks. “Alright, well, we have some meetings with some of the most powerful Bratva Pakhan in the country - wish me luck. I need to make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

Bucky watches Stark and Nat as they leave, and he thinks of what this is costing Stark, both figuratively and literally, although he knows damn well that Stark doesn’t really give a shit about the fame or fortune he’s putting on the line, he just wants his Kiddo back, safe and sound.

Bucky knows the feeling.

Steve presses a bowl of food into Bucky’s hands, and he automatically starts eating. He doesn’t know when he’ll eat again; his body needs the fuel.

“Are you sure you won’t take a set of comms with you?” Steve has been trying to persuade him for the better part of a day.

“No. It’s too risky.”

“Bucky, going in there alone on radio silence is too risky. What if you need back up? What if -”

“What if they find out where you are? Who do you think is gonna pay for that?” Bucky levels a glare in Steve’s direction. “Not me - they’ll take it out on _her_. I’m not taking that chance.”

“But -”

“What if you end up hearing the shit I have to do? This could easily end up as the worst case scenario. Fuck, Steve, it’s bad enough that even if I _can_ get her back, I still might lose her - because _she might not forgive me_ \- but if you hear it...”

“Bucky -”

“No. Steve, I have to do this without comms. I can’t take the risk of them finding it. The reality is that things might go sideways, and then they could find my gear. Until that goddamn collar’s off her neck, we cannot take any chances.”

Steve exhales loudly, but reluctantly nods. “Okay.”

Bucky finishes his food, pulls on his coat, gloves - one for warmth and one for grip - and combat boots before grabbing a key and helmet.

“Are you sure you want to take the motorcycle?”

Bucky nods. “It gives me more options in a rushed exit. If we end up having to go off the road, I can duck and dodge through the trees on my bike; I can’t do that in a car.” He looks over at Steve with a tiny grin. “Don’t worry, I’ve got studded snow tires on it.”

Steve shakes his head as he approaches his friend for a send-off embrace - it feels a lot like the one in New York before Bucky left for the war. “Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“How can I? I’m leaving all the stupid with you.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Yeah, well you’re a punk.” And with that, it’s time to go; it’s time to get his girl back. 

Bucky opens the door to the formerly abandoned country home, and the Soldier steps out into the moonlit Siberian cold.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during Part 39 of When Everything's Made to be Broken. **If you haven't already read through Part 45 of WEMtbB, this part will contain major spoilers**

“Dobroe utro, Soldat.” _Good morning, Soldier._

He takes a moment to gather himself, to allow the Soldier to enter his mind before he replies; for something he’s fought so hard to keep locked away, it scares him how easy it is. “Ya gatov otvechat.” _Ready to comply._

The conversation between the Krakken brothers and the Soldier begins. It’s a dance, and Bucky has always had excellent rhythm. He’s not used to following, though, so allowing the Soldier to take the lead is a little challenging. 

_Suck it up, Buttercup. You’re doin’ this for_ her. _You don’t have the luxury of breaking character. Her safety is on the line, and if she gets hurt, it’s your goddamn fault._

“Soldat.” Anatoliy speaks, and Bucky swallows the urge to punch him. “Do you know this woman? Does she mean anything to you?”

He steels himself for what he has to do; he knows what to say and how to act. Bucky swallows his feelings as he glances at her, knowing the Soldier shows no expression. “No, Kapitan, I do not know her.”

The words are bitter, but it can’t be helped. 

Nicolai joins the game. “You look disappointed, milaya moya.” 

The Soldier catalogues the statement; Bucky decides to cut out Nicolai’s tongue before this is over. She is not now, nor will she ever be, Nicolai’s sweetheart.

Nicolai backhands her hard enough to bring her to her knees, and then he drags her back up.

The Soldier remains still; Bucky knows he’s being monitored, so he’s careful not to clench his jaw.

“Soldat.” Nicolai’s command makes Bucky’s skin crawl – God, he _hates_ that name.

“Yes, Komandir?” He knows what’s coming. He prepares himself for it.

“You are not to kill or inflict permanent injury upon this woman. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Komandir.”

“Good. Now hurt her. I want her unconscious before you’ve finished.”

Then only thing keeping him from exiting the charade is knowing that if he doesn’t do it, if HE doesn’t hurt her, then Krakken will have someone else do it. That someone else will not pull his punches; the only control Bucky has right now is over how badly she hurts.

And he overheard what the others want to do to her – it won’t stop at punching. Those fuckers want to touch her, and they’ll make him watch. They’ll put her through hell because they can, and because they know that he’ll do _anything_ to keep her from going through it.

He swallows his fury and steels himself against what he has to do; mentally calculating exactly how hard he has to hit her to make it look real against how much he can pull the punch to inflict the least amount of pain.

The Soldier slowly walks toward her, deliberately driving her away from the men and toward the wall. If he can put himself between her and them, he can obscure their line of sight. It doesn’t have to be nearly as brutal if they can’t clearly see the attacks.

_He’s going to kill the motherfuckers making him do this. Slowly._

He draws back his hand and hits her across the face; thankfully, thankfully her training kicked in and she loosens herself to take the blow; it looks a lot worse than it really is.

_Yeah, put that foot back and move with the punch…that’s my girl, now the other way, tense up your stomach…good girl._

He’s slow and methodical, not at all hurried. It allows him to reduce the amount of hits and allows her to anticipate his moves, but to them it looks like he’s relentlessly stalking her.

_They’ll know the difference when he’s coming after them…_

Her back finally hits the wall. Good. He wants to end this as quickly as possible. His left hand shoots up to grasp her around her neck – he uses his metal hand for effect, but does not actually choke her. Instead, he carefully reduces the blood supply to her brain. Not enough to cause damage, just enough to make her pass out for a minute or so. They said unconscious – this is the best way to accomplish it without really injuring her. 

It’s almost a relief when she starts to slump under his hand; he guides her descent as best he can without making it obvious, hoping to prevent any injuries from her unconscious fall. The hardest part is turning his back to her. But he does; he _has_ to.

In his peripheral, he sees a man with sandy blonde hair rush to her. Who the fuck is he? He seems…different. Doesn’t seem to be a threat, and as she wakes she doesn’t seem scared of him. He’ll have to do some recon on this one – Bucky didn’t see his face in any of the files pertaining to Krakken’s men. 

The Soldier’s next task is to kill one of Anatoliy’s men. Fine. Good. They’ve promised the fighter a night with her if he succeeds; it fuels Bucky’s anger but he’s careful not to show it.

_If he’d had the luxury of time, this man would die a much slower, much more excruciating death._

It’s over much faster than he’d like – it was a nice outlet for his rage, although he’s vaguely insulted that they thought this man would actually be a test of his skills.

He registers the blonde man escorting her out of the room – good. Get her away from here.

Then the Krakkens are talking again. Saying how happy they are with their ‘acquisition.’ The Soldier shows no emotion; he’s trained not to care.

Then there’s the tour, to which Bucky takes great interest as he sets everything in his mind like a map. They’re explaining what they want from him, what his punishment will be if he fails, and what his reward is as long as he behaves.

Her. It’s all centered around her.

They’re using her to control him, just like he knew they would. It’s almost too much when they bring him to her room, although he’s happy to know where she is. She looks so terrified – and _pissed_ – but she’s standing on her own, relatively unhurt. It’s the encouragement he needs to keep going.

“Soldat, we are nearly done for tonight so we will show you your room now, but after you receive your final orders you may come back and visit her, if you like. Your room is right next door.” 

He’s careful not to show his relief at his quarters being so close to hers; it’ll make it the tiniest bit easier to watch over her when the situation allows. Their insinuation, however, pisses him right the fuck off.

Of course, the Soldier doesn’t show it.

They lead him out of the room, and he follows, fostering the belief that he is the obedient Asset they so desire.

***

It occurs to him to go to her, it really does. But he can’t. He can’t allow himself to be that close to her. Putting on a show for them is one thing, but he doubts he can keep it up if it’s just the two of them; no, he _knows_ he can’t keep it up if it’s just her. Lying to her doesn’t come easy, and the only reason he’s managed so far is because her safety is on the line. He’s not willing to take the chance – not that he doesn’t trust her with the secret, but she wears her heart on her sleeve. She wouldn’t have a chance of fooling the psychologists they’ve got watching her, hell, she probably doesn’t even know about them. 

Besides, he’s not sure if Stark has the security system hacked yet. He won’t know until he meets up with his team again, which will hopefully be tomorrow if they assign him a mission. Nothing to do now but try to sleep. Yeah, right. Fat chance.

The funny thing is, he does.

He could have sworn she was lying beside him when he first woke up.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during Part 40 of When Everything's Made to be Broken. 
> 
> **If you haven't already read through Part 45 of WEMtbB, this part will contain major spoilers**.
> 
> And good grief, so much for this being a drabble series...

His first official mission under the Krakken regime is actually quite beneficial; he’s to ‘interrogate’ eight men that are accused of leaking information to other Bratva families. Bucky wouldn’t ordinarily take any pleasure in killing anyone, but he’s making a special exception for the men under this roof.

They really shouldn’t have messed with his girl.

They call in most of the staff to witness the interrogation, and Bucky notices the blonde man from yesterday. Who is he? Why wasn’t he in any of the intel his team had gathered? It starts to come together when he sees the dull metal ring barely covered by the man’s collar; he’s not a willing participant, then, and most likely some sort of bonded servant rather than an employee. Bucky briefly wonders if this man’s loved one was forced to put the collar around his neck; God, he hopes not. He doesn’t really have the time to think on it now, so he files the information away for later – something tells him it’ll be useful.

He turns his attention to the eight men tied to chairs in front of him. He knows he’s an imposing figure – he’s in his own black uniform, still armed to the teeth. Bucky makes a fist with his left hand, making a show of the plates shifting in his arm, while making sure his eyes are empty and desolate. One of the men loses control of his bladder, and the Soldier allows himself a smirk. 

_That’s right. You should be scared. Vengeance will be terrible but it sure as hell won’t be swift._

The men squirm, and Bucky watches them carefully for signs of guilt. Reading them is easy enough for a man of his training; within a minute or two he’s confident that seven of these men are innocent. Well, no, not innocent. Just not guilty of betraying their Pakhan.

_Too bad for them._

And so it begins. First the verbal assault, then small inflictions of pain. Pressure is applied, fear is instilled, intimidation tactics are implemented. He brings out his knives, one by one. An hour later the floor is covered in blood, but they’re all still breathing. Two hours later they are all openly weeping and begging for mercy, but they’ll find none from him. By this point he thought he’d be done, but the Krakkens are inventive, to say the least. He follows orders until even he is nauseated with the excessive cruelty, but of course the Soldier doesn’t allow it to show. Ultimately, he feels no remorse at the impending loss of life. He knows that once they confess that their executions will be ordered, but he really doesn’t care. That’s seven men he won’t have to deal with later.

He lets up just a little on the guilty one, though; his betrayals might be useful to Bucky’s team at some point.

Nicolai and Anatoliy are well pleased when he’s finished, while everyone else is appropriately terrified. Good.

As their men start dragging out the seven bodies, Nicolai and Anatoliy saunter up to him. Nicolai speaks first, “Well done, Soldat. I am not pleased there were rats in my house, but I _am_ pleased with your performance.”

Bucky nods woodenly as Anatoliy hands him a small stack of files. “Here is your next mission; you have two days to complete it. Everyone on this list is to be executed, in this order, but they are to look like they are responsible for murdering each other. There are further instructions in the file.”

“Yes, Kapitan.”

“How many men do you need to complete your assignment?”

“None, Kapitan. I can be more discrete and efficient if I work alone - having a team will only slow me down and poses a greater risk to the success of the mission.”

Nicolai looks to his brother and shrugs. “It makes no difference to me, so long as it is done. It is not as though we have to worry about him going rogue; the Asset knows the consequences should he stray from his orders.”

“Fine,” Anatoliy turns back to the Soldier. “Take whatever equipment you need to complete your mission; you know where to find it. Grigory will be waiting in the garage for you when you are ready to depart – he will assign you a vehicle.”

The Soldier holds his shoulders back and doesn’t allow the relief to show. “Yes, Kapitan.” 

“Oh, and Soldat, I expect pictures as proof. It will no doubt be in the news, but I want to see that they are dead.”

“Yes, Kapitan.” Bucky leaves and quickly makes his way to the heavily armed part of the manor that holds the artillery. It’s more extensive then he’d like – they are really well armed. It’s something he and the team will need to take into consideration when they’re finally ready to move. He reviews the files to see what equipment he needs, and blanches at the information he sees. Children? They fucking expect him to kill _children?? What the fuck??_

Bucky pauses in front of the countless racks of guns as he considers the orders. He thinks back to the phone conferences he’d had with the team when he was still at the safehouse; something about this seems inconsistent. Wrong. 

The children.

Krakken isn’t known for going after kids; he’s known for making them watch their parents die, but not for harming them. So why the deviation? Nicolai had made an exception for putting out an order for Artie and Jimmy, but that was only after weeks of frustration at not being able to find his primary target. Why is he deviating now? 

It eats at Bucky as he selects his gear. Two sniper rifles with scopes and ammunition, an extra set of knives, gloves, a hat, and a warm, black coat made of a quiet material; supersoldier or not, he’s gonna need it. It’s January in Siberia, and it’s fucking cold outside. He thinks a moment before grabbing a second set of gloves and an extra hat. He also takes some nutritional supplements since he can’t exactly stop at McDonalds, bottled water, two cell phones with back up batteries, a watch, a digital camera, and a pack to hold everything. That should do it.

He closes the pack, and his hands still. Nicolai’s deviating because he doesn’t want anyone to know it’s him behind the murders. What better way to throw people off your tracks than to do the exact thing you’ve been known not to do? Still…

Fourteen people. Three families. 

The Krakkens must be systematically eliminating those in the surrounding areas that might impede their rise to power, but don’t want to get on the radar of those further out. Bucky shakes his head and fervently hopes that Stark has had success with the other Bratva Pakhan.

***

Bucky stops 14 miles outside of Krasnoyarsk, finding a secluded, empty house to use as his base as he completes his mission. A quick sweep of the property and its contents tells him that it’s a vacation home, utilized only in the summer months by a family from Irkutsk. In his search he finds a set of keys for the car in the garage, a pair of jeans that kind of fit, and a map of the city.

He’s got the address for the meeting place memorized, so now all he has to do is get there. He changes into the jeans; they’re too short and a bit too snug, but it can’t be helped. With the jeans he can still wear his coat and hat, and look non-descript enough to pass as an ordinary citizen. Bucky carefully goes over the rest of his gear, searching for any tracers or wires that could compromise his location. Satisfied that there are none, he dons his coat, gloves, and hat before checking himself over in the floor length mirror by the bathroom door. Good enough.

He recites the address once again as he tucks one of his guns into the waistband of the jeans and exits, hoping the other car will start; he doesn’t want to take the SUV provided by the Krakkens, as it’s most likely bugged. Bucky needs to be untraceable for the next few hours. 

***

Thankfully the little shop is easy to find, and it’s not too far of a drive since it’s in the northern part of the city. Bucky steps out of the bitter early afternoon cold and is immediately almost uncomfortably warm. He looks around, taking in the various guns, bows, and other gear necessary for hunting that are displayed in the cases and on the walls.

The man behind the counter speaks without looking up. “Can I help you?” 

Bucky understands Russian perfectly, but does not answer.

When the proprietor is met with silence, he raises his eyes. “Can I…” 

Bucky allows the man to study him as he does the same. Blonde hair, blue eyes, huge, somewhat crooked nose. Friendly smile. Average height, on the skinny side. He almost looks a bit like a taller pre-serum Steve, but he has an air of competence rather than rash scrappiness. This man’s physical description matches the one given to Bucky by Stark on the day he left the team. He’s in the right place, then. “Yakov Chekudayev?” Bucky logs the information as the man’s eyes grow wide.

“Oh, you’re…” he switches to English effortlessly. “Please come with me.”

This is clearly the guy Stark told him about, but Bucky remains wary; he doesn’t trust anyone but his team in this godforsaken country. “I speak Russian fluently, you don’t need to switch,” Bucky murmurs, double checking to make sure there are no other patrons in the shop.

“Ah, but not all of your friends do,” he replies with a wink as he walks to the front door, locking it and hanging a sign indicating that the store is closed for lunch. He nods, indicating that Bucky should follow as he turns and walks toward the back. Yakov leads Bucky into what looks like a back storeroom, and then through a locked door and down a set of stairs. At the end of the hall there’s a closed door…and Wilson.

“Thanks, Yakov,” Wilson says as he opens the door he’s guarding, letting both men through.

Bucky feels Wilson’s hand on his arm as he passes. “Hey, someone’s got to say out here and watch the door and I drew the short straw, so just tell me, how is she?” 

“She’s –“ Bucky has to pause to swallow and lick his lips before he can speak, “She’s hanging in there.” 

Wilson nods. “She’s a tough cookie. She can get through this, man, you both can. We’re gonna get her out of there, and then you two are gonna have your happily ever after.”

“I hope so,” Bucky mutters as he enters a brightly lit room holding both Steve and Stark.

“So she’s doing okay?” Steve clearly heard what he’d said to Wilson. “We’ve been keeping tabs on her, but, well…”

“As well as can be expected considering she’s behind held by a couple of sadistic monsters.” Bucky pushes the Soldier back and doesn’t bother trying to hide the desperation in his tone. “Steve, we need to get her the fuck out of there. It’s worse than we thought, and I don’t know how much more she can take before she snaps.”

Stark takes a deep breath, but remains quiet.

Yakov steps forward. “One of the psychologists they hired is a regular at one of the bars about 10 kilos from here. He talks too much when he drinks; a few days ago, I heard him brag about how he and his colleagues have been testing the boundaries of a subject’s limits with great success. He is, however, afraid of pushing the subject too far as it would result in immediate termination, so I would guess that the Krakkens are not yet ready to fully break her. You are not yet out of time. 

Bucky was unaware of his presence, and tenses until Steve answers the question in his eyes. “He’s good, Buck – his girlfriend was raped and killed by Anatoliy; he’s got no loyalty toward the Krakkens. Yakov’s an ally.”

Well, if he’s good by Steve, he’s good by Bucky.

He sees Yakov clench his jaw and briefly look down before meeting Bucky’s eyes. “I was going to ask her to marry me on the day she was killed. I had her parents’ blessing and the ring in my pocket.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Bucky murmurs, feeling as though his experience may yet mirror Yakov’s heartache if they don’t act quickly.

“Me, too. Those bastards need to be brought to justice, and I am more than willing to do whatever I can to meet that goal.”

Bucky nods, but watches Steve out of the corner of his eye; he knows his version of justice and Steve’s are likely going to be two very different things in this case. 

None of the men in that manor are going to see the inside of a jail cell.

“Yakov has been of invaluable help; his family was the first to join up with us which has made the negotiation process with the other Bratva families much easier.” Steve explains, trying to make Bucky more comfortable with the new addition as well as to catch him up on the situation. “In the cases where Stark’s offers weren’t convincing enough, they were able to put pressure on the other families to comply.”

Yakov nods. “The Krakkens are a disease in the Bratva brotherhood. They need to go, but they have gotten too powerful for any of us to take down. With your friends, however, it can be done.”

“So, ah, what brings you here?” Stark interjects, somewhat impatiently. “What kind of mission do they have you on?”

Bucky untucks the folded files from an inside coat pocket and tosses them on the table in front of Stark. “They want these families assassinated.”

The men review the information, and Yakov nods. “It makes sense; these families have been known to openly criticize Nicolai, but they also do not get along with each other as their competition has been very fierce in the past few months. It wouldn’t be so surprising to see them go after one another, so it would be a good cover for Krakken to eliminate them.”

“As it so happens, these families are now on my payroll,” Stark says drily as he flips a page. “Going after kids, sick fucks…”

“Yeah. So what’s the plan? Are we faking their executions?”

“Damn right we are. Barton’s been watching makeup tutorials on YouTube to learn now to make the wounds look realistic, and Yakov’s family runs a slaughterhouse.” Stark pulls a face, “We’ve got access to all the props needed to make this look real. We’ll take the pictures you’ll need for proof, and then send the families out for a little vacation. Luckily for us, we now control the press in the city, so no worries about that. Oh, and I have a little present for you.”

Bucky takes the item Stark pulled from his pocket and inspects it carefully.

“We were able to find out what kind of equipment the Krakkens prefer – this should be the same kind of watch they issue to their minions. So I got one, and made it better, of course. It doubles as a two-way radio so you don’t have to be cut off when you’re there,” Stark pauses as he reaches into his other pocket, “and this is how you’ll hear us.” He passes an earpiece to Bucky, and like the watch, the equipment is identical to what he’d taken from the Krakkens’ supply room. “Use this instead of the one they gave you, even when you’re communicating with them. I was able to find their channel, so it’ll work for that as well as for us. That way you don’t have to explain why you have two.” 

Bucky nods as he puts the earpiece and watch in place; he’d left the others behind.

Stark quickly reviews the functions, and Bucky pays attention until he can’t hold in his question anymore.

“So how much longer do we have to keep this up? Where are you on a fix for the collar?”

Stark looks away. “I…I got nothing. I can’t get any information on those damn things, so I can’t reverse engineer a fix. I don’t know how they’re made, or even what they’re made of, and if I don’t do it right I might accidentally set off the explosive.“

“Goddamn it, Stark, I need to get her out of there and I can’t do that with that fucking collar around her neck!” Bucky’s voice comes out thick with desperation.

“He knows, Buck,” Steve steps in, knowing the tension and stress felt by everyone could turn this into something explosively bad, “He’s been working around the clock trying to figure this out.”

Bucky pulls at his hair as he takes a deep breath. “I know, I just –“

“I want her back, too, Barnes, but I just can’t take any chances on doing this wrong. I need a collar, or specs, or _something_. And I know this is extra sucky for you, because you have to see her li–“

“That’s the least of my worries at this point! Do you know what they want me to do to her?” Bucky tries to keep his voice from rising, but fails. “They already made me beat her, and they’ve implied that they want me to _rape_ her! And if I fuck this up, if I do _one fucking thing wrong_ and they figure it out, they’re going to take it out on her. Not me, her. She’ll be the one that suffers, she’ll be the one that bleeds!”

The color drains from Starks face; he opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it again.

“I know we knew this was a possibility, but it’s real now. These men are even more fucked up than we thought. I’ll keep playing my part, but goddamn it Stark, we need to get her the fuck out of there.” Bucky turns to face his other teammate when his panic threatens to choke him, “Please, Stevie, we gotta come up with something –“

“We will, Buck,” Steve takes hold of Bucky’s shoulders as he speaks; if it had been anyone else, they would have lost their arms. “Hey, we’re gonna get her back, we just have to figure out how.”

The words do little to soothe the agony in Bucky’s soul, but the hands grasping his shoulders manage to ground him enough to gather himself.

Bucky takes a deep breath before speaking; he does know that Stark is doing everything he can. Doesn’t make it any easier, though. “Alright Stark, I’ll do what I can to get you a collar, or at least find some info about them.”

“Get me one, and I’ll have it figured out within a day.”

“Good. You got this then? I’ve got something else I need to take care of.”

***

Bucky lays on his stomach, some 2 miles away from the manor. He checks his watch; 17:32. There should be twelve men on the southwest side of the building that are off duty now but have the early 3:00 am shift, which means their bodies won’t be noticed until at least then…and if he can pick them all off before they report to their posts, then he can start spreading fear.

Fear begets anger, and anger begets carelessness. If he can keep his enemies off kilter, then he has the advantage.

Five rooms are empty. Three rooms have the curtains drawn.

Four men are now dead.

The other eight will need to wait until later; he needs to meet up with Barton in 20 minutes to switch vehicles, and get the camera and the bottle of animal blood that will make it look as though Bucky was assassinating his assigned targets, and not Krakken’s men.

***

Grigory’s eyebrows raise significantly when Bucky returns. “Back so soon?”

“My mission is complete.”

Grigory’s eyebrows manage to go even higher. “Impressive. Your proof?”

The Soldier passes the camera to Grigory and waits as he reviews the pictures. “I believe Mr. Krakken and Kapitan will be very pleased.” He pauses as he glances at his watch. “They were not expecting you, but they are optimists, so they had a place set for you in the dining room. It is still dinnertime, so you are to report there immediately.”

The Soldier nods sharply and leaves to do as he is told. Entering the dining room, Bucky is somewhat surprised to see his girl there, but is careful not to show it. What possible use could they have for her here, now? Do they just never tire of inflicting pain?

It doesn’t take long to have his questions answered; it’s just another form of torment for their sick and twisted pleasure.

They make her talk.

They tell her about his assignments, about how he was out killing people, and ask if she still loves him. She answers yes - thank God she answers yes, it bolsters Bucky’s courage and resolve like nothing else could - but then they push her and her sass comes out. The spark of pride in Bucky’s chest dies abruptly when Anatoliy begins to manhandle her; it’s all he can do not to stand and snap that jackass’s neck. Nicolai has other plans for her, though.

They make her watch.

The blonde man – Mikhail – is beaten. Both Nicolai and Anatoliy took part in the vicious assault, so Bucky takes the opportunity to observe her. This man means something to her – she’s thoroughly distressed to see him be hurt. He doubts anyone else notices, or cares, but he can plainly see that it’s more than just her compassionate nature, so they must have bonded somewhat over something. It’s something his team will need to take into consideration; Bucky decides they’ll need to free Mikhail, too, if they can. God, he just wants to reach out and comfort her, but he can’t. He _can’t._

Then they make her listen.

They want a full report of the tasks the Soldier completed. He gives them the fabricated details, giving enough to make it seem real but not so much that it seems like he’s overcompensating. It’s a fine line, but he pulls from memories of missions he’s actually completed, so he’s convincing enough.

Watching her out of the corner of his eye he sees how much it distresses her, but she’s trying so hard not to show it.

_I’m so sorry, Sweetheart, my brave, beautiful girl, I’m so sorry…_

He can’t comfort her, even though every cell in his body demands it.

She’d bolted the second she was dismissed, and it took every ounce of self-control not to follow her.

***

Bucky wakes he hears Stark’s voice in his ear; he’d been waiting to hear from his team and was surprised that he’d fallen asleep.

“Rise and shine, Barnes.”

Bucky blinks, and stiffens momentarily when he feels an arm around his waist and a warm weight behind him. It only takes him a second to realize it’s her; she’d come to him.

_She’d come to him? After all she’d been told and seen, she’d still come to him?!?_

The guilt of his deception, as necessary as it may be, is crushing him - almost suffocating him - under its heavy weight.

“Cameras are currently showing reruns of empty hallways, if you care to take a walk.”

He freezes; not wanting to move, not wanting to wake if this is just a dream.

“She’s been there for a good half hour; she hasn’t been sleeping well, so I’d guess she’s more passed out than sleeping at this point. You were, too – I’ve been trying to wake you up for five minutes.”

Bucky takes a moment to revel in her touch as he listens to her breathing. Stark’s right – she’s out cold. 

He reluctantly gets out of bed.

“The channel showing you sleeping is especially riveting.”

Bucky grabs his knives.

“Halls are clear; unlike our friends in the hell hotel, I have live feed. I’ll let you know if anyone tries to crash your party.” There’s a long pause, then. “I’ve got eyes on her, too. I’ll let you know if anyone goes into that part of the manor.”

Knowing Stark can see his confirmation, Bucky nods as he silently exits the room, taking a good long look at her before he goes.

When he returns 26 minutes later she hasn’t moved an inch, and there are eight less men to worry about.

“Try to get some sleep, Barnes. Cameras will go live again in one minute. We’ll be in contact in the morning to find out about your murder mission du jour.”

Bucky removes the earpiece and carefully crawls into bed, getting himself into the same position he was in when he awoke. He diligently counts down the seconds until the minute passes, and he knows he can move without there being an obvious jump in the footage. 

He shouldn’t – God, he _knows_ this is a bad idea and that he _shouldn’t_ – but he does anyway. He turns around to face her, and does what he can to gather her into his arms without making it obvious that he’s awake. He wants to place a kiss on her forehead but stops himself, because that’s not something someone would do in their sleep.

This is enough, though. Holding her close is enough. He wants to relish it - especially since he doesn’t know if what their future holds even if his team does manage to free her - so he tries to stay awake, but he hasn’t been sleeping much, either.

When she nestles into him, he can’t help the relaxation that sweeps over him. The soft familiarity of her form soothes him, and lulls him to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during part 41
> 
> *****If this is your first time reading through, and you HAVEN’T yet read through part 45 of WEMtbB, this will contain major spoilers*****

He shouldn’t have let his guard down; he shouldn’t have fallen asleep.

Not that it would have mattered. The outcome would have been the same.

Bucky wakes when the door slams open and the lights come on, but there’s nothing he can do. When she’s torn out of bed and he can’t hide it – he knows in that split second that his face has betrayed his emotions - he can only hope that the men mistake it for being startled.

_Get your shit together, or you’re gonna have to explain to Artie and Jimmy why you couldn’t save their mom._

Or rather the team will, because Bucky has no intention of leaving here alive without her.

He allows the Soldier to take over as he’s pulled out of the bed by his hair. It doesn’t exactly tickle, but compared to what he’s been through it’s easy to ignore. He relaxes his body to minimize potential damage as he lands roughly on his knees, and then sways with Anatoliy’s hit.

“Just kill him, Kapitan, his skillset is not worth the lives of our men.” Grigory speaks from behind her; Bucky can see her visceral reaction to the man’s hands on her, but is distracted a moment later when he’s kicked in the stomach.

Once again the Soldier ignores the pain; the cold metal of Anatoliy’s gun against his temple has his full attention.

Oh shit. Oh _shit._ This is real; Bucky can read Anatoliy quite clearly, and right now Anatoliy _isn’t bluffing_. This isn’t supposed to happen – he made damn sure those deaths weren’t traceable to him.

Panic washes over him as he realizes he overplayed his hand. He’d assumed that after all the trouble they’d taken to get him that they wouldn’t kill him recklessly – that they’d need a compelling reason that was backed up with some sort of proof. Proof he _knows_ they don’t have, and they’re willing to kill him anyway.

He’s never made a tactical mistake like this before. Never.   
If they kill him, she’s gonna end up paying the price for his error.

Bucky weighs his options. Unfortunately, there isn’t much to choose from. There are eleven men in the room; under different circumstances he would like these odds, but she’s being held by Grigory and the bastard might snap her neck before Bucky could get to her. Even if he could manage to take Grigory out first and get her behind him so he can protect her, he’d still have to get through the other ten men _before_ someone sounded an alarm. Getting her out of this room alive doesn’t mean shit with that collar around her neck; they can still kill her with the press of a button. Then again, she’d probably prefer that over the alternative.

His other option is to do nothing. 

He has to try; he can’t allow them to kill him when he knows what they’ll do to her once he’s dead. He can’t leave her like this, thinking he did nothing to save her.

His mind made up, Bucky readies himself to move – then stops as Nicolai walks into the room.

“That would be a bit merciful, yes? He still has some suffering to endure, I think.”

The statement is meant to intimidate, but it’s all Bucky can do not to exhale in relief. He’s not worried about whatever pain Nicolai plans to inflict, he’s more focused on the time he’s been given. He just needs a few minutes to think. If he can figure out how to take out Nicolai, Anatoliy, and Grigory all at once, that _might_ give him enough of an advantage...

“Hold out your right arm, Soldat.” 

Well shit. This is going to be incredibly inconvenient.

Bucky lifts his arm and does his best to relax his joints. It won’t be the first time his shoulder has been dislocated, but that doesn’t mean it will be fun.

Nicolai takes his arm and forcefully twists; Bucky feels the bone leave the socket.

Yep, that stings a little.

He doesn’t feel the burn of torn tendons, so it’s not as bad as it could be, all things considered.

Everyone looks up at the sound of running footsteps in the hall – Bucky wouldn’t have expected salvation to come from one of Nicolai’s men, but it does.

“I reviewed the camera feed as you asked,” the man gasps, “It was not him.”

Well glory fucking hallelujah. 

As he watches the conversation, he sees how he moves once again from liability to Asset in the eyes of his captors. He’s relatively safe now, and by default, so is she. It’s enough for now.

His name essentially cleared and their minds now occupied by an unknown threat, Bucky allows himself the tiniest breath of relief when he sees that the chaos he’d sown finally begins to take root and spread. _This_ had been his intention – the fear and unease of an invisible enemy within their own defenses has visibly set them on edge. Good.

Still, he’s going to have to be more careful; he can’t make a mistake like this again.

***

Bucky sits in Yakov’s hidden room and rubs his tired eyes as he waits for Steve and Nat to show up. His reset shoulder aches, but it’s nothing more than a minor annoyance.

He’s got more important things on his mind, like getting her the fuck out of that hellhole.

Bucky has already spoken with Stark, who left immediately after to arrange the coverup for the next round of executions – he was visibly disappointed that Bucky wasn’t able to provide any new information on those goddamn collars. 

Well, Bucky’s disappointed, too. At least she’s relatively safe; he’d listened carefully to make sure that prick Grigory really did just escort her to her room and didn’t try anything, and now that he’s at Yakov’s shop he’s able to monitor her through one of the tablets Stark has piggybacking on their security system. He tries not to do it too often, though, because she doesn’t know it’s _him_ and he feels like he’s invading her privacy. It’s…difficult, to say the least, when all he wants to do is see her and take comfort in knowing she’s okay.

His thoughts are interrupted when Steve and Nat enter the room; they prop the door open since they don’t have anyone standing watch as everyone else is working with the targets of Bucky’s current mission.

“Alright Buck,” Steve unrolls large sheets of paper and places them on the table. “We were able to find the building permits and blueprints for the Krakken manor. This should help with logistical planning, so why don’t you give us a tour.”

Bucky nods as he stands to get a better view of the plan. “They keep her here,” he points to a room on the second floor in the eastern wing. “This area has mostly guest rooms, but their non-militant staff, the few that primarily do housekeeping and the like, are housed here as well. Most of the common areas are on this floor, like the kitchen and dining hall, but there are some recreational rooms on the first floor and a gym in the basement. Krakken’s men are quartered in the west wing; the higher the rank the higher the floor. The first floor is more like a barracks than anything else, and the third floor is where their most trusted people have suites. Nicolai and Anatoliy have full apartments on the third floor of the east wing; Metzger’s lab is in the center.” He chews on his bottom lip as he considers the prints, “The armory is on the first floor in the eastern wing along with their security equipment, which is probably why this side of the building is more heavily fortified.”

Steve lets out a noisy breath. “Well, they certainly didn’t do us any favors, did they.”

“The eastern side is surrounded by the wooded area, right?” Nat questions with her brows furrowed. 

“Well, the entire area is wooded, but it’s thickest there, yes,” Bucky mutters as he turns to study a map.

“That might be your best place to escape, then. Even if it’s got higher security, the woods give you a greater advantage over the driveway or the sparser areas.”

“I think you’re right, Nat. I hid my motorcycle over here and walked up when I first arrived,” Bucky points to a spot in the woods roughly 4 miles from the manor, “but if I can move it closer and part it here, then we’ll have a vehicle. It’s not ideal if the weather stays so damn cold, but a bike is a lot easier to hide then a car.”

“Easier to maneuver through the woods, too, if they give chase. They’ll have to follow on foot or slow down considerably to get a car through there,” Steve murmurs. When his comrades nod their agreement, he continues, “I’ll find a way to get your bike closer. Maybe Stark has something that-”

Bucky tenses when he hears footsteps coming quickly down the stairs, but Steve is quick to assure him that it’s just Yakov. “He wants to help, he just had a customer he had to take care of.”

Choosing to trust his friend over his own unease, Bucky again turns his focus to the plans in front of him.

A door slams, and another set of footsteps is heard barreling down the steps as an unfamiliar voice begins to speak from the doorway. 

“You…You are not really the Soldier…”

Bucky clenches his jaw as he reaches for the firearm at his back; he can see Nat and Steve doing the same in his peripheral.

“You have been pretending.” The blonde stranger stares at Bucky from behind two black eyes.

“No!” Yakov’s panicked voice echoes down the stairs along with his hasty footsteps, “Do not hurt him, please!” He gets to the door and pushes the other man aside. “Are you trying to get yourself _killed_ , bratishka??”

|bratishka – little brother

“I need to talk to them!”

“You need to go back upstairs!” Yakov says forcefully, but he’s unable to completely mask the fear in his voice.

“He’s not going anywhere, Yakov,” Nat says calmly, but doesn’t lower her gun. “Bring him in here.”

Yakov goes white as he stands frozen.

“You heard her, Yakov. Bring him in,” Steve’s tone leaves no room for argument.

Yakov still doesn’t move as the other man pushes past him to enter the room. “Please, he is practically family…”

Bucky stares for a moment before lowering his firearm. He’s seen this man before. “Mikhail?”

“You know him?” Nat keeps her focus and her gun aimed on the stranger.

“He works at the manor, but he’s collared.” Bucky remembers how his girl reacted when Mikhail was beaten; she wouldn’t have acted like that if this man hadn’t treated her with kindness. Besides, Bucky is confident in his ability to read people; this man means no harm. “He’s not a threat.”

Yakov audibly exhales when Bucky holsters his weapon; Steve follows Bucky’s lead immediately, but Nat keeps hers trained on Mikhail.

“You sure about that?” she asks sharply.

Bucky nods. “I trust my girl; from what I saw, she seemed to consider him an ally, maybe a friend.”

“But how do you know? You-“

“I _know_ her, Nat. Yes, I’ve have limited observations, but she’s not afraid of him, in fact, she’s shown concern for him, and on the night I arrived, he was the one that got her out of that goddamn hall.” Bucky places his hand on her gun and lowers it. “I trust my girl, Nat.” 

She huffs noisily but holsters her firearm with one last glare at Mikhail, who has been watching the exchange with wide eyes but is seemingly not frightened.

Steve turns his gaze to Yakov. “We’re already working with your family, why didn’t you mention – Mikhail, is it? – why didn’t you mention him?”

“I am not family by blood,” Mikhail takes a step forward as he speaks, “but we grew up together, Yakov and I. He was the older brother to me that my blood brothers were not. Our families were close; close enough that my parents gave their blessing for Yakov to ask for my sister’s hand.”

Nat turns sharply to Yakov. “His sister was the one that was murdered by Anatoliy? The one you were going to marry?”

Mikhail’s jaw clenches as Yakov whispers, “Her name was Izolda.”

Mikhail’s eyes lock on Bucky’s. “We need to get her out of there. I do not know what your plan is, but I want to help. Let me help solnishko as I was not able to help my sister.”

Bucky feels something akin to relief at Mikhail’s words, or maybe it’s the feeling of solidarity that comes with finding a comrade behind enemy lines. Either way, he nods. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

Nat tilts her head as she thinks, “Don’t they call her lisichka?”

Mikhail scoffs, “Of course they do, it is part of their sick little game; they think they are clever. She understandably does not want to be called that, and I respect her wishes as far as I can. I am not allowed to address her by her actual name, so I gave her a different one.”

Bucky is really starting to like this guy.

“You used to call Izolda by that name,” Yakov murmurs, lost in the memories of a life stolen from him.

Mikhail nods slowly. “It suits her; she has the same kind of soul as Izolda. Besides, there was no reason to make her feel even more degraded than she already does by them; they treat her as though she is a pet, and the name they use emphasizes that. It is a small thing that I can do for her, but at least it is something. I refuse to aid in their attempt to strip her humanity from her.”

Yes, Bucky likes this one.

“So what can I do? I am technically supposed to be running errands for Dr. Metzger, but I can cover for a bit of extra time. How can I help?”

“Is anyone following or tracing your location?” Nat asks before tapping out a text on her phone.

“No, they do not bother. Besides their ability to set off the explosive around my neck, I still have a family. Their way is to control people by using others; in my case, they would use my mother against me since she is the only surviving member of my family whose wellbeing means anything to me.”

Steve is quiet for a moment as he considers Mikhail’s words. “Are you sure you want to do this? We’ll be as careful as possible, but there are no guarantees. You’ll be potentially putting your mom at risk if you help us.”

Mikhail nods decisively. “Yes, I am sure. She would want me to do this, to do what is right. My mother has nothing but disdain for my father and is ashamed of her other sons. She would tell me to make her proud.”

“He is right,” Yakov interjects, “She would want him to do this. I overheard her tell my mother once that her four eldest sons were children of duty, but that Izolda and Mikhail were the children of her heart.” He pauses, gazing at Mikhail as he thinks. “We have not been working with the Davydov family – mostly because there has been no need, but also because they would be difficult to sway to our side as they are loyal and firmly within the Krakkens’ control – but perhaps it would be beneficial to speak with Galina. She plays the part of the dutiful wife when her husband is around, but she is quite powerful in her own right. There are quite a few Pakhan that keep a respectable distance, and more than one have been known to seek her counsel. She works as a nurse at one of the clinics in the southern part of the city; she may have additional resources that we are not aware of.”

“Can you get a letter to my mother?” Mikhail allows the tiniest of smiles, “I haven’t been allowed to contact her.”

“If you’re sure about this, we’ll make sure she gets it,” Steve promises.

“Yes. I am sure.”

“Alright then.” Steve points to the black strip of metal around Mikhail’s neck. “What do you know about that collar?”

“I know only that I cannot get it off, and that it could be set to explode by them at any moment.” He pauses for a moment as he shrugs, “It was terrifying at first, but the novelty of the threat has worn off by now.”

“Do you know where they keep information on them? Or extra collars?”

Mikhail bites his lip as he thinks. “If they have anything, it is likely somewhere on the third floor, perhaps in the doctor’s lab or even Mr. Krakken’s suite.”

‘What are the odds you could get a hold of something?”

Mikhail shakes his head. “None. I do not have clearance to access the third floor without an escort. Mr. Krakken requires all staff to be very thorough and vigilant; I would not be able to look for anything without being caught.”

Bucky bites his bottom as he considers Mikhail’s words. “Do you think you could come back tomorrow so Stark could take a look at it? He said a collar would work – I don’t think he planned for it to actually be on someone, but we can tell him now so he can prepare for it.”

“I can arrange for some of Dr. Metzger’s supplies to be damaged upon arrival. I doubt they will send me back out tomorrow, but perhaps the day after.”

Nat looks up from her phone. “That will have to work – Tony won’t be able to get here before you leave today.”

Bucky swallows back his disappointment – this is more than he could’ve hoped for, but still. He gestures to the chair across from him. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mikhail. I think we have some things to discuss.”

Mikhail takes the offered seat before staring at Bucky intently. “You cannot tell her.”

“What?” Bucky is somewhat taken aback by the intensity of Mikhail’s voice.

“You cannot tell her that you are not really the Soldier. I am sure it will not be easy for you to deceive her, but she will not be able to hide it when the two of you are in the same room together. Her heart is in her eyes when you are around as it is”

“I know,” Bucky mutters as he pushes his hands through his hair absentmindedly. “I want to tell her, God, I want to fucking tell her just to give her some damn hope, but I can’t take the chance. She wouldn’t be afraid of them anymore if she knew that I was there with her. She - she has too much damn faith in me.”

Mikhail shakes his head slowly. “It seems clear to me that you have earned it and that her faith is not misplaced. She loves you, you know. She worries more for you than she does for herself. I know it is difficult, but let me handle the hope, yes?” Mikhail smiles brightly. “Now, I have roughly 40 minutes before I need to leave, so let me tell you all of what I know of those bastards.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during part 42 of WEMtbB.
> 
>  
> 
> *****if you haven't read through part 45 THIS WILL CONTAIN MAJOR SPOILERS*****

Bucky sits quietly in his quarters; he’s uneasy, to say the least. 

Other than this morning’s horrible awakening, all went well today; better than he could have hoped, actually. Within ten minutes of meeting Mikhail, Bucky had more than a good enough read on the other man to put himself at ease. There was absolutely nothing about Mikhail that set him on edge, and he couldn’t find even the smallest hint of deception; had it been there, he would have seen it. Nat agreed once she spent a bit more time with him, so Bucky is confident that his judgement isn’t clouded. It eases his mind somewhat to find that he has an ally to watch over his girl when he can’t; not nearly enough, of course, but it’s something. Bucky tries not to think of the letter Mikhail wrote – it’s currently stashed at the house Bucky commandeered as his base while out on missions, and he prays it stays that way. Mikhail made him read the letter, and made him promise…God, he hopes it doesn’t come down to honoring that fuckin’ promise…

The mission had been faked well and the pictures he’d handed in were praised by the Krakkens. They suspected nothing, as far as Bucky could tell, but he’s not about to get cocky. Not after this morning.

It’s a struggle not to get up and pace – Bucky needs to move, needs to do _something_ – but that’s not something the Soldier would do unless he was starting to break through his programming. The Soldier has no anxiety, no fear, and no reason to be restless. The Soldier is efficient and does not waste energy, so movement is limited to what’s necessary for physical maintenance and missions. However, the Soldier is not here right now, so Bucky feels like he’s ready to crawl out of his own skin.

He rolls his shoulders a bit. The ache in the right is almost completely gone, but stress has made him a bit stiff. His earpiece itches, but he ignores it. Bucky doesn’t want to call any unnecessary attention to the fact that he wears it almost constantly, even though he could pass it off as part of his diligence. He wants to make sure his team can reach him if necessary, so it needs to stay in.

Bucky glances at the clock. Might as well try to catch a bit of sleep before tonight’s plans are executed.

***

Bucky wakes with the sound of his own scream ringing in his ears.

_It wasn’t real. She’s alive, just on the other side of that wall. It was just a dream. Her blood isn’t warm and sticky on his hands. It wasn’t real. It didn’t really happen. It was just a dream. He isn’t really the Soldier. It’s just an act._

_For the most part._

He shakes uncontrollably as he moves to sit at the edge of the bed, resting his head in his hands as he tries to muck up the guts for what he has to do next. 

She’s coming. Even if he couldn’t hear her, he’d still sense her. 

_It’s for the best…she’ll be safer this way…_

Yeah, but It’s still going to tear him in two.

…And here she is.

“Why are you here?” It doesn’t come out as harsh as he would have liked, but it’s almost impossible to pretend when there isn’t an audience physically present. He knows without looking that her heart is in her eyes, and it’s so fucking hard to lie to her.

He’ll do it, though. He’ll do it every day for the rest of his life if that’s what it takes to keep her alive.

“I just…I heard you scream. I, uh, I know you don’t remember, right now, but I used to soothe you after your nightmares.” Her quietly spoken words hang in the air, heavy on his heart. He wants to tell her that he remembers, that he knows exactly who she is. He wants to close the distance and hold her, to tell her that he’s going to get her out of this nightmare.

He doesn’t, though. He _can’t_. He won’t make another mistake like this morning.

“Do you want me to leave?” 

He wants to scream no, no he doesn’t want her to leave, but Bucky knows he has to send her away. Still, the words don’t come easily, and when they finally come they aren’t nearly as blunt as they should be. “If I wanted you, I would have gone to you.” 

“Okay. I’m…I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

Bucky doesn’t move until he hears the quiet snick of the door closing, and even then he doesn’t have the luxury of showing his despair. He still has an audience. 

He remains still as he focuses on keeping the raging storm contained.

He hears an unwelcome voice coming from her room at the same time as Stark’s warning through the tiny earpiece – then her breathless scream.

“I’m gonna fuckin kill that goddamn bastard,” he mutters as he swiftly rises, fists already clenching.

“Might I recommend beating the piss out of him, but stopping just short of killing him? You can kill him later, Barnes, _after_ we get her out of there.” 

_Fuck off, Stark. You’d want to kill him too if you were the one standing here._

The door almost comes off its hinges when he leaves his room, and her door fares little better. Looking wildly around the dimly lit space he finds that Grigory has her pinned against a wall, and the fucker is trying to kiss her, but then she bites him and knees him in the balls, just like she’d been taught. The flood of pride Bucky can’t help but feel is quickly swamped by rage when Grigory strikes her across the face and she crumples to the ground.

Something inside Bucky snaps – that prick really shouldn’t have done that.

Bucky closes the distance before grasping Grigory by the shoulder and roughly turning him, using Grigory’s momentum to his advantage when his fist violently collides with the other man’s face. There’s a satisfying crunch – most likely a cracked eye socket. 

_Eye for an eye, asshole. You were fuckin’ warned._

Not giving him even a second to recover, Bucky’s left hand finds Grigory’s throat and he uses his unyielding grip to force the other man to the wall. The metal hand isn’t squeezing _quite_ enough to asphyxiate, but Bucky can clearly hear Grigory struggle to breathe. A small smirk crosses Bucky’s otherwise expressionless features – the effect must be chilling, because he can feel Grigory’s fear through his grasp.

“What the fuck are you doing? Stand down, Soldat!” Grigory’s panicked command almost makes Bucky laugh, especially when he looks down to see Grigory’s dangling feet kicking like a child hanging from the monkey bars. Huh. He hadn’t realized that he’d lifted Grigory off the ground. 

There’s a teeny, tiny part of him that thinks _maybe_ he shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much; despite everything he’s gone through, Bucky’s nature is to protect, not to harm. This isn’t even the Soldier – when the Soldier is in charge, everything is about efficiency and effectively completing a mission, brutal as the methods may be. No, this is all Bucky, even the enjoyment of inflicting pain upon the creep that had dared to hurt the woman he loves, and it’s a side of himself that he hadn’t known existed.

Apparently his need to protect her brings out the worst in him – he doesn’t feel guilty, though, because at the end of the day he’s okay with whatever gets the job done and keeps her alive. 

They brought it on themselves anyway - they really shouldn’t have messed with his girl.

“Don’t kill him, Buck.” Now it’s Steve’s voice in his ear; Stark must not have thought he could talk Bucky down. “Don’t take the chance. She needs you alive to get her out of there.”

Bucky hears without listening, too focused on the man in front of him. “You have no orders to harm her. And you are _not_ my Komandir,” he growls. There. That should be a good enough cover.

“I am Kapitan’s second in command!”

Bucky squeezes his hand just a bit tighter, and Grigory struggles to inhale.

“I am entitled to do with her what I wish! What the fuck is wrong with you?” You’d think the guy would quit talking, but no.

Bucky is unable to help himself; he slams Grigory’s head into the wall hard enough to loosen some teeth with the way Grigory had been clenching his jaw – he’s gonna have a dandy of a headache in the morning. Good.

“Buck!” From the sound of his voice, Steve is probably wearing the Eyebrows of Disappointment, maybe even the Frown of Disapproval. “Now is not the time!”

_Yeah yeah yeah._

“You have no orders to harm her.” Bucky throws the bloodied man to the floor. “Or touch her. She was given to _me_ , not you.” It makes him feel almost nauseous to speak of her as though she’s nothing but a belonging, but he still has to play a part and this will serve to justify his actions.

Grigory mumbles something as he leaves the room, but Bucky is too busy watching her out of the corner of his eye to pay any mind. She’s sitting, at least. That’s good.

It kills him that he can’t rush to her.

“Thanks, Bucky,” comes the soft murmur from the floor. Damn it, that broken whisper fuckin’ _hurts_ to hear.

He stills, careful not to let any of his reactions betray him as he considers what he can get away with under the assumption that his motivation is to care for a possession. A plan quickly formulates; the Soldier had never been given a companion, so this is new territory. Fortunately, this means he has a little bit of leeway, since there isn’t a precedent he needs to abide by. 

Well, first things first; lock the door, so there aren’t any surprises while his back is turned. Grigory didn’t have the clearance to do what he did, so there shouldn’t be any reason for anyone to come after the Soldier; in fact, if anyone gets into trouble, it’ll probably be Grigory. Can’t be too careful, though.

“She’s okay, Buck. You should probably just leave. We’ll keep an eye on her.”

_Shut up, Steve. No one asked you._

Steve’s resigned sigh comes through before the connection goes silent - his quiet acknowledgement that Bucky is likely going to stay, at least for a little while.

Bucky concedes that leaving would probably be the smart thing to do, but when has he ever been accused of doing the smart thing?

He turns, careful to school his face into a bland expression. As he helps her to the bed and looks her over for injuries, he’s extremely careful to avoid eye contact – his emotions are so raw right now that he knows, he just _knows_ that if their eyes meet, she’ll see right through him. 

He carefully inspects her head – she’s got a bump on the back, but it’s not as bad as he’d feared. She’ll probably have a headache but it doesn’t seem like she’s concussed. Her cheek, however, looks awful; the skin isn’t broken but it’s already swelling considerably. That’s gonna start throbbing like a son of a bitch if she doesn’t get some ice on it.

Goddammit, he refuses to remain completely helpless while she hurts. She’s getting some fucking ice.

He turns and leaves without a word, closing the door behind him before going into his room to retrieve the key the Krakkens had given him “just in case he wanted to lock up his prize while he was gone.” Sick fucks. 

Bucky knows they probably have a copy, but he’s fairly confident that Grigory doesn’t, and right now he’s the bigger threat. Going back in the hall, he uses his key to secure the deadbolt that locks her in from the outside before retrieving some ice and a plastic bag. He wanted to get her something for the pain and swelling, even just something over the counter, but he’d have to go to the medical bay for that and that would raise too many questions. The ice will have to be enough.

Thankfully the trip is uneventful and quiet until he gets back to her room.

He can clearly hear her sobbing from the other side of the door, and he has to take a few moments and several deep breaths to lock away his emotions before reentering her room. It’s hard, so incredibly hard, to act as though he isn’t just as distressed as she is, but somehow he manages to pull it off. Thankfully she doesn’t question it when he chooses to stay; he really doesn’t know what he would have said if she’d asked, but she stayed quiet, watching him pull a chair next to the door and settling in before she laid back down with the ice against her cheek. 

It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep. Bucky raises his hand and gently taps his earpiece – anyone watching would think he was simply pushing an errant strand of hair out of his face.

“Alright, Barnes, you’re good to go. You’re clear to take out the six men we discussed earlier, but no more. That asshole took up too much of your time tonight.”

Bucky nods, and proceeds to do what the Krakkens brought him here to do. 

He kills.

***

“Stark, I need a few minutes before you switch the cameras over.”

He hears the quiet confirmation to his whispered request as he returns to her room, ghosting in to find that she’s still in as deep a sleep as she was when he’d left. She’s so fucking exhausted – he can see it in her eyes and her somewhat clumsy movements – she must not have been sleeping at all before he got here. Either her body has reached its breaking point and has finally allowed her slumber despite the danger to her, or she actually feels safe enough, now that he’s here, to let her guard down enough to sleep even though she thinks it’s the Soldier and not really him.

Bucky has a feeling he knows which one it is – she’s a mom, for fuck’s sake, she’s no stranger to sleep deprivation – and he’s humbled by her faith in him. Whether or not he deserves it is irrelevant; it will exist either way.

Maybe…maybe their relationship can survive this? Bucky allows himself the smallest flicker of hope. He’d gone into this knowing there was a decent chance that even if they lived through this ordeal, their bond might not. It’s a price he’s willing to pay if it means that she’s in the world somewhere, alive and with the boys.

The boys. They _need_ their mom. How could he do less than anything and everything it takes to bring her home to them? No price is too high for him to pay to see it done.

A quiet sigh escapes as he bends to gently place a kiss on her temple. “I love you, and I promise we’re doing everything we can to get you out of here. I’ve never met a dame as strong and brave as you. Keep bein’ strong, alright? Your boys need you. _I_ need you, even if I have to love you from a distance. I know you might not want me anymore, after all this is over, but you’re still gonna be my north star. I’d be lost without you.” His whispered words are quiet enough that he can barely hear himself, so he knows she wouldn’t have been able to hear the words even if she’d been awake, but he needed to say them.

He reluctantly goes back to his chair by the door – Stark claims his technology is unhackable, but there’s no point in taking any careless chances; they shouldn’t override the video feed any longer than necessary. Bucky sits as he was before, crossing his left ankle over the right and closing his eyes to snatch whatever small amount of sleep he can get.

“Barnes, you need to slouch down just a little more to match the last images from the video feed.” Starks voice comes across quietly, almost hesitantly – as he rearranges himself, Bucky wonders if Stark heard his whispered words. Oh well, it’s not like his feelings are a secret. “And switch your legs – your right was over the left before…alright, you’re going live in 3…2…1…”

Bucky relaxes as much as he can into the chair as the familiar lullaby of her soft breathing soothes him into a dreamless sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during parts 43 & 44 of When Everything's Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am)

He had a bad feeling when he woke up this morning. Well, worse than usual.

Bucky stands in the dining room, listening to Grigory try to persuade Nicolai and Anatoliy that the Soldier was responsible for the murders of their men. He watches them carefully, and is able to read them clearly enough to know that they do not believe Grigory. And yet…

They send Mikhail to fetch her.

Nicolai strides up to Bucky, and backhands him across the face. “You are loyal to me, are you not, Soldat?”

The Soldier shows no reaction other than turning his head back to face Nicolai. “You are my Komandir.” The wooden voice of the Soldier is clearly understood, and Nicolai smirks.

“Yes.” He trades a look with Anatoliy, and Bucky’s soul seizes.

_They’re bored_.

They don’t really give a damn about the lost men, other than the inconvenience. They’re in want of entertainment, so they’re going to humor Grigory. They’re going to hurt her. Because they’re fucking _bored_.

Fuck.

He stands by, motionless. What else can he do? Any option he has will end up in their deaths. It…it may still come to that…

She arrives, and she looks so brave and so scared; Bucky’s pride in her merges with his sorrow.

“Grigory must be right, there’s –“ Anatoliy makes a good show of it, but Bucky can clearly see the lie.

Nicolai cuts off his brother with a dismissive wave. “All evidence points to the Asset remaining fully triggered; he cannot help but be compliant to our orders. Besides, brother, the video feed offers nothing to support this ridiculous idea.”

“Nicolai, he is an accomplished and seasoned assassin! Some of those kills could have been completed by none other than him. I cannot explain the lack of video proof, but it had to have been the Asset – who else could it have been? Our closest living enemies are at least 500 kilometers away, and they have no reason to retaliate for the families that were executed.” Anatoliy plays along convincingly.

“That is why we must test it; to be sure it is still under the control of the trigger words.” As Metzger speaks, Bucky realizes that the wormy little creep isn’t in on the farce – he thinks it’s real, and they’re stringing him along as part of their game.

It’s escalating quickly, and it’s _pissing Bucky off._

Bucky has no idea how the hell he manages to stay so outwardly calm with the inferno raging within him.

He hears Anatoliy, he fuckin’ _hears_ that sick sack of shit talk to Mikhail – the bastard brought up Mikhail’s sister. 

And now…oh _God_ , they’re going to give her to Grigory? Here? Now? _Fuck._ Bucky can’t allow this, he won’t, but how the hell is he – 

“No!! Stop! It was not the Soldier!” Mikhail’s voice cuts through his stream of thought.

Oh shit. 

Immediately understanding Mikhail’s motives, horror and relief, denial and guilt, adrenaline and failure simultaneously race through Bucky’s body.

“No, Mikhail, don’t!” Her stricken voice cuts through the dining room, but Bucky doubts anyone but him listens.

“There is no need to harm her! It will not serve your purpose, as the Soldier did not kill your men. And if he is still triggered, hurting her will not make him comply any more than he already does.” Mikhail stares defiantly as Nicolai stalks toward him.

_Goddamn it, Mikhail! Shut your fuckin’ mouth! Don’t do this to her, don’t make me give her that fuckin’ letter…_

Bucky remains still as he watches the situation unfold – there’s nothing he can do right now that won’t get them all killed, but he still weighs his options.

“Mikhail, SHUT UP!” She moves, but Grigory pulls her back. “I know what you’re trying to do, Mikhail, but _it’s not worth it_!” The desperation in her voice cuts jaggedly through Bucky’s heart – she knows. Oh fuck, she _knows_ what Mikhail’s about to do, and now that the possibility is turning into inevitability and Bucky is faced with the anguish on her face, he regrets the promise he made to Mikhail.

That goddamn motherfucking promise that Bucky hadn’t wanted to make, because he’s not one to let his comrades fall on a grenade.

A promise not to intervene. Not to interfere.

_“If there comes down to it, it is my life lost before hers. If it happens too early, before your plan is fully executable, you will not be able to save us both. Save her. Yes, I know your heart would always choose her if you were forced to choose, but I have known men like you. Your honor will demand that you try to save me as well. Do not. She may ask you to save me. Do not.”_

A promise to Mikhail, to honor his choice. 

Bucky watches the nightmare come to life – he refuses to look away. This is his punishment for failing Mikhail and for failing her. His team should have figured something out by now, they should have found a way. 

But they hadn’t.

And as if she hasn’t already paid too high a price for his team’s previous mistakes, these men are demanding even more. Just like they’ve done with Mikhail.

Mikhail, who is now bloodied and on his knees, whispering to her through a busted mouth. “This is my choice, solnishko. They will be too distracted now to focus on hurting you. Survive, solnishko. For me. For your Bucky. For your little ones. For Izolda. _Survive_.”

It’s coming down to the last moment to act, to do something – but he doesn’t. Bucky made a promise. It doesn’t matter that he regrets it, it matters only that he made it. And he will honor it – he can do no less for someone so brave.

Bucky can audibly hear her heart break as the events play out; he’s pretty sure his is breaking, too.

Then the act is done; Nicolai has beheaded Mikhail and there’s no undoing his sacrifice.

She’s completely broken, but so unexpectedly _still_. It’s almost as if she quit breathing; Bucky keeps his focus on her even as he keeps his eyes on the bastards responsible for devastating his girl. He’s pretty sure she’s going into shock, but there isn’t anything he can do about it at the moment. Bucky makes a good show of listening attentively to Nicolai’s instructions as his mind races.

_Yeah, I get it, you want Stevie’s head. Because of course you would. For fuck’s sake, shut the hell up already._

It’s all he can do to hold in his huff of annoyance as Nicolai finally takes his leave. Bucky glances around the room, noting that everyone is involved in planning and no one is paying him any heed. He takes a step closer to her.

“Oh God.” Her small whimper breaks whatever is left of his heart. 

“You should go back to your room.” He doesn’t know what else to do. Bucky wants to just pick her up and carry her out of this hellhole, but he can’t. This will have to do. Except…she isn’t responding. “You should go back to your room,” he says it a bit louder this time, but still nothing.

She doesn’t move, she simply remains kneeling on the cold floor, supported by her arms in front of her. Her eyes, once so bright and full of love, are closed, so he takes another step forward. He knows he has to be careful, but he also knows that he has a reputation now for protecting the little bit that’s his. As long as he doesn’t call too much attention to her, he should be able to get away with this. Bucky reaches forward and lightly takes hold of her upper arm. “You should go back to your room.”

Her eyes finally open and she acknowledges his statement, but she doesn’t rise. 

_This is not good._

Bucky looks around to make sure no one is watching before he kneels in front of her. “Look at me.” She finally does, thank God she finally does, but there’s no recognition in her eyes. Shit. _This is so bad._ He hates that he can’t comfort her, that he has to remain so distant, but it’s what he has to do. “You can’t stay here. You’re in shock – you need to go back to your room.”

_C’mon, Sweetheart, stay with me. Please, please stay with me…_

The only response he receives is another nod. Bucky stares a moment before he lifts her to her feet. Fuck, she’s in such bad shape.

_Please, I know you’re still in there, Sweetheart, come back to me…please…_

“I’m going to take you back to your room now.”

Again, no response. Bucky licks his lips, nervous as the blood pounds in his ears. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so terrified in his life as he is right now. She’s right in front of him, and he’s still losing her.

He shakes her just a bit, trying to gain her attention.

“Srry, waa?” _Fuck_ , she’s not speaking clearly. She blinks at him, clearly trying to make sense of their stunted conversation.

“You’re slurring your words – we need to get you back to your room, where it’ll be safer.”

She mumbles something, but Bucky can’t understand any of it. 

“Goddammit.” Bucky looks around – the room has cleared a bit, and none of the men left are watching them. “Hey,” he takes her chin between his fingers, grasping her gently but forcing her to look at him. “I know this is a lot to handle. I know this is hard, but you need to cooperate with me. I have an important mission to complete – if I fail they’ll take you away from me – but I can’t leave until I get you somewhere safe. I can’t pick you up and carry you, because it might attract attention and right now that’s the last thing you need, so you have to walk with me.”

_Please, Sweetheart…_

A tiny smile crosses her otherwise blank features, and it sends a chill up his spine. There’s no other response.

“Hey,” he speaks just a bit louder as he shakes her just a bit more. “Can you do that for me?”

_Please…_

She mutters something incoherent, but it sounds like a confirmation so he begins to pull her forward. She follows almost blindly, but at least he gets her back to the relative safety of her room.

“Stay here,” he orders, putting all the authority he can muster at the moment into the command. She nods, but it still takes him a minute before he can make himself leave.

With every step Bucky takes away from her, his rage grows. 

Moments later, in the kitchen, Bucky slams a box of protein bars onto the counter. No. This can’t stand. Bucky won’t allow it.

“I can feel it in my bones that you’re about to go rouge, so I’m tweaking the camera feed for your location.” Stark knows him better than he’d like to admit.

He nods almost imperceptibly as he abruptly turns. “Kill the cameras to the dining room.” Bucky whispers the command under his breath seconds before he strides into the bloody, empty room. Fuckers didn’t even have the courtesy to cover Mikhail’s body.

“Barnes, I know –“

“Fuck what you know, Stark. I’m not leavin’ him like this. Mikhail made the ultimate sacrifice, he deserves some fuckin’ respect.” Bucky kneels and gently lifts Mikhail’s head before bringing it back to the rest of his body. The dull glint of Mikhail’s collar catches his eye; time to make good on the next part of his promise.

Bucky carefully removes the collar and places it in one of the pockets of his black cargo pants. He looks around, and upon finding a credenza against the wall, he stalks over to it before flinging open its doors. When he finally finds a couple of pristine white tablecloths, he goes back to Mikhail.

He spreads the soft white material over his comrade’s body, covering and protecting him from the prying eyes of the world, if only for a little while.

“I wish I wouldn’t have made that promise. But I think you were right. There’s only one other way this could’ve ended and then all three of us would be dead. So thank you, Mikhail. I’m not gonna waste your sacrifice. I’m gonna get her out of here.”

Bucky kneels next to the broken body, doing his best to remember the exact words. It’s been a long, long time since he’s had to this – another lifetime, in fact – God willing it’ll be the last. He takes a deep breath, and tries to keep his voice steady. “May God bless and keep you, may God’s face shine on you. May God be kind to you and give you peace.”

It’s seems like so little – it is so little – but a soldier’s battlefield sendoff is all Bucky has to give.

“Um, how are you planning to explain that to the resident sword-wielding murderer?” Stark’s reverent tone doesn’t match the words, but Bucky knows that he means no disrespect; humor, albeit sometime bad humor, is one of Stark’s signature coping methods.

“These assholes probably won’t give Mikhail a second thought. If they do, let them think a ghost did it.”

“Well…alright Barnes. Alright.” Stark is quiet for a moment before adding, “Actually, I think I’m gonna tweak their video feed just a smidge…they’re gonna see a ghost do it. Anyone want to run bets as to how many men shit their pants when they do a re-watch? Any takers? No? Fine. Barnes, I’ll make the images go live after you’re back in the kitchen.”

Bucky rolls his eyes as he returns to the kitchen area, confident that Stark is covering his tracks as he moves. He does _not_ want her to have to leave her room to find something to eat or drink, so he again starts picking through shelf stable foods as he tries to guess how long he’ll be gone. A day? A week? He hates the idea that she’ll be living on chalky protein bars and trail mix, but it’s better than nothing. Fuck. How the fuck are they going to pull this off? Steve’s _head_? What the everloving fuck. He really should have expected something like this from these monsters, but yet here he is, horrified and mildly surprised.

Bucky takes a deep breath and reminds himself to trust his team. They’ll figure something out – they’ll have to. Besides, they have a collar now, and Stark was confident that he could come up with a fix in short order. Bucky has a feeling he was being optimistic when he said he’d have it figured out in a day, but at least progress can be made. Right?

***

Not that Bucky’d had much of a choice in the matter, but leaving her there alone in that god-forsaken building was slowly suffocating him. It’s been 24 hours since he walked out her door. It’s been 24 hours since she begged him not to kill Steve. It’s been 24 hours since he had to lie to her to save her life. It’s been 5 minutes since he last saw her, since he’s got Stark’s video feed running constantly on the tablet sitting on the floor next to him. It’s 5 minutes too many, so he glances at the screen again. She’s…she’s practically catatonic. Not for the first time, Bucky wonders if they’ve managed to destroy her. The human soul can only take so much – did the Krakkens finally give her more than she can handle? Or is this his own fault for letting her in? 

Is this his punishment for allowing himself to love? 

_Did he even have a choice with her?_

Or is this his punishment for allowing himself to be loved?

_Was he really such a terrible monster that it’s not enough to punish him, but that she has to be punished, too?_

She doesn’t deserve this, and he doesn’t deserve her.

A tear rolls down his cheek. He never should have let it come to this. He promised her – he fuckin’ _promised_ her – that she wouldn’t get hurt on his watch. She’d be better off without him. 

He should have walked away when he had the chance. When Stark left that first night, he should have left, too. He should have sent a message to the team to send someone else to protect her, and he should have left. 

“Helllooooooo??? Earth to Barnes??”

Bucky blinks as Stark’s voice interrupts his self-loathing.

“Hey Barnes!” Stark flicks a wad of paper at him, and Bucky narrowly dodges.

“What?” He doesn’t mean it to come out as a growl, not really.

“Knock it off.”

Bucky stares at Stark for a moment, but Stark keeps his focus on the collar that he’s been fiddling with nonstop since it went into his hands. “Knock what off?”

Stark leans forward ever so slightly and adjusts his work light before grabbing what looks to be a small circular saw. Without turning to Bucky, he begins speaking, “This isn’t your fault, you know. Despite what you _think_ , Barnes, this isn’t your fault.”

Bucky wants to protest, but Stark doesn’t give him a chance.

“I can practically smell the money I’ve spent on your therapists going up into a cloud of smoke,” Stark sighs as he leans back in his chair. “Scratch that, it’s the money I’ve spent on both our therapists.” He finally turns to face Bucky. “Look, if you want to play the blame game, that’s fine. I certainly can’t stop you. But if it’s anyone’s fault, it belongs squarely with the Krakkens.” Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but Stark keeps talking, “Look, I made the mistakes that got her involved and I take full ownership of those, but let’s be real here, shall we? We wouldn’t have been in that building in the first place if it wasn’t for the damn Krakkens. Got that? This isn’t some sort of sick celestial retaliation for anything you’ve done, or for anything I’ve done. If anything, this is the price we pay for being the good guys.” Stark pauses as he leans forward to rest his elbow on the table and rub his tired eyes, “It’s not fair, and it sucks, but we both know we would never have NOT gone into that building to try to stop them. Right?”

Bucky stares at Stark, knowing damn well what his answer is but unable to voice it.

“The consequences of the Krakkens taking over the US government city by city outweigh our own pain. You know that, I know that. And if we had ignored the threat, where would she be then? Do you really think anyone would be better off living under their rule, potentially on the brink of another world war? Especially considering their distant yet still existing ties to HYDRA? It might have been slower, and it might have taken different forms, but everyone would have been affected at some point if we didn’t do something to stop them. You’ve been there, you’ve seen how they live and what they believe. How would she and Artie and Jimmy fare in a country controlled by them? Would what she’s going through now really be worse for her than watching her boys starve to death? Because you and I both know she’d willingly choose this a thousand times over to keep those boys safe. Or if the takeover became violent, which really would have been just a matter of time, do you think not having her in your life would keep her safer when bullets and nukes begin flying?”

Bucky licks his lips, still unable to form a valid argument. He doesn’t _want_ to form a valid argument. He wants Stark to be right, because then maybe that means that he isn’t really just a selfish bastard.

“Besides, despite everything you know now, would you really give her up? Would you _really_ choose to cut her out of your life, especially not fully knowing the alternatives? Because you’re a liar if you say she’d be better off without you. You can’t _know_ that. And everyone knows damn well that you were better with her. She made you better and you’re a goddamn liar if you try to tell me or even yourself that you’d willingly choose to not have her in your life. Even knowing what you know now, you wouldn’t. And I think you know, somewhere deep down inside, that she wouldn’t choose that, either.”

“He’s right, Buck.” Steve makes his presence known but doesn’t move from the doorway. Bucky glances to him but then looks at the floor as Steve continues to speak, “You know, I went down a trail like this after you fell from the train. Pegs found me in a bombed-out bar, trying to get drunk to drown out the guilt. She told me that I needed to respect your choice. That you must have thought I was worth it.”

Bucky swallows hard as he fiddles with a boot lace.

“She’s still alive, Buck. Maybe not in the greatest shape, but she’s alive. When this is all said and done, and she’s free and safe, don’t you dare make the choice for her and let your guilt convince you to walk away. Allow her the dignity of her choice, and when she chooses you, because she _will_ , accept that it’s because she thinks you’re worth it.” 

“But what if I’m not?” Bucky whispers, “She’s in so much pain right now, and I just fuckin’ left her there.”

“Hey,” Stark interjects firmly, “We knew this was a tough plan when we started. We knew this would likely be a series of worst case scenarios. We also knew we had no other choice. I know this is hard on you, Barnes, and seeing how hard it is on you while watching you still carry it out makes me respect you more than I ever thought I could.”

Bucky and Steve both look at Stark, surprised. 

“What? I’m not completely blind to your better qualities. But Barnes, you can’t collapse under the pressure. Not now. We’re too close, so you need to pull your strength from wherever cybernetically enhanced former assassin supersoldiers keep their stash, and you need to figure out how to keep going because I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you give up now.”

Bucky heaves a sigh as he nods. “I’m not giving up, I’m just…”

“Having a shitty day and pickling yourself in self-loathing. I get it. Things always seem so much worse when you have nothing to do but sit and stew on it. But cheer up, okay? Your mopey face is even uglier than your murder face, and I don’t want to look at it anymore. Besides, she’s up and fighting,” Stark nods at the tablet next to Bucky. “Give her some credit, would you? She’s going to have scars, but if we can get her out of that goddamn hellhole, she’ll survive.

Bucky looks down at the screen and sees what Stark is referring to. She’s gone from motionless grief to a whirlwind of wrath, destroying everything within arm’s reach. It doesn’t last long before she’s kneeling on the floor and sobbing, but it’s enough for Bucky.

“Tony, where are you on a fix?” Steve steps over to where Stark is working. 

“Well, I have to say, this technology is…unusual. The metal – haven’t yet figured out yet what kind – has been fused with some sort of material that acts both magnetic and as a bonding agent.” Stark holds up a piece of the collar that had been cut away by the circular saw – a process that had taken almost three hours to complete. “See, if I touch any part of this to anything made of the same material,” there’s a soft click as he allows it to rest on the rest of the collar, “then it bonds instantly and seamlessly. Even on a molecular level, the connecting area isn’t visible; there are no detectible weaknesses or flaws. It’s as if it was forged from the same piece at the same time, even though we know I just put it together.”

“So what does that mean?” Bucky asks impatiently.

“Well, it means this is going to be tricky. The metal isn’t indestructible, but obviously we can’t just take a saw to her collar when it’s around her neck. Now, with the design being a solid circle rather than a chain, it has to have a hinge somewhere, right? Right. That hinge is behind the stone holding the explosive goodies.” Stark pauses as Bucky and Steve get closer to better see what he’s talking about. “Now, right along here,” he points to where the hinged area opens and closes, “there’s another metal that isn’t, for lack of a better term, compatible with this other stuff – it’s how the hinge works without it bonding as well. So the good news is that we found where the weakness is. The bad news is that it’s right next to the boom maker, which makes it unexploitable.” He sighs. “That, and they’ve designed it as a choker, so we have little to no room for error.”

Steve exhales noisily. “So what’s the next step?”

“Laser power.”

“What?” Bucky all but screeches. “You know you can’t put a saw next to her neck, but you want to try a goddamn laser?”

“Hear me out, Barnes,” Stark holds up his hands defensively. “I’ve been working with lasers for years, so this is right in my wheelhouse. I just have to significantly miniaturize the technology and contain the laser. Easy peasy, but a little on the time-consuming side…I should have it done by the time our little present for the Krakkens is ready to go.”

Bucky and Steve both pull a face at Stark’s comment; the replica of Steve’s head arrived a few hours ago, and it’s fucking _disgusting_. Although, after seeing it, it’s impossible not to recognize how the prop designer has won awards year after year. It’s brilliant in its realism. Bucky is grateful for Stark’s foresight in asking his friend to create these…replicas…before leaving for Russia, but still. Disgusting.

“WHAT THE SHIT???” Wilson’s yell echoes through the modest cottage as Stark starts quietly laughing. “You’re one messed up dude, you know that?” Wilson points his finger at Stark as he storms into the room. “Who does that? Who puts a damn lifelike head decoy next to a man’s lunchmeat? You just don’t do that!”

“You put it in the _refrigerator_?” Bucky asks, unable to hide his own repulsion at the idea.

“Oh come on, what was I supposed to do? Defrost it on the counter? Everyone knows that’s not safe,” Stark’s mild tone does little to pacify his team.

“WE’RE NOT GOING TO EAT IT!” Wilson shrieks. “C’mon man, you _know_ that thing doesn’t belong into the fridge!”

Stark sighs noisily. “Look, we have one chance to get this right. My buddy gave me very strict instructions on how to treat this thing to make it the most lifelike upon delivery. It has to thaw slowly and evenly so the outside doesn’t start to decompose before the inside does.

“But…gross, man. Just gross.” Wilson storms out, muttering something about no longer having an appetite.

“So...a miniature self-contained laser. How much time do you need?” Bucky remains still, but his heart is pounding. 

“Umm, two days, three tops. I have to source a few parts. But no more than three.” Stark’s attention is already back on the collar.

“And you’re sure this is safe? I don’t like the idea of a laser anywhere near my girl’s neck.” Bucky almost sounds absentminded as he speaks while watching the tablet, but Stark knows better. 

Stark sighs heavily as he puts the collar on the table. “Barnes, I know you’re worried, but you really need to trust me. I’m not going to do anything to intentionally hurt her. I think you know that. Now that I have a collar to work with, I can design something to work for this exact measurement and this exact material. Even if I don’t entirely know what this stuff is, I can test as I go and adjust accordingly.”

“He can do this, Buck.” Steve and his never-ending confidence in people.

“Okay.” Bucky murmurs, his mind already working on a plan.

“Okay.” Stark nods and gets back to work.

***

While he would never say that it’s good to be back, he feels better about being under the same roof as her. The days that had passed had been too long, but they had to wait for Stark to finish his technology and for the head to thaw completely.

God that was fucking gross, but the waiting paid off. It looked perfectly real; Bucky’s seen enough dead bodies to know. 

“Well done, Soldat, well done,” murmured Nicolai as he gazed almost lovingly at the fake head. “You have far exceeded my expectations; I had mobilized almost all of my men to find those American bastards, and they all came back empty handed.” He suddenly looks up sharply. “What of the rest of the team?”

“They dispersed after their Captain was executed.” The Soldier almost sounds bored.

“Did you find where they were hiding?” Anatoliy admires the bloody fingerprints on the shield as he speaks.

“Yes, Kapitan, I have already given Grigory the location.”

“Well done, Soldat. Well done.”

Well done indeed. Nicolai and Anatoliy are thrilled with the head and shield, completely none the wiser that only one of the two is real. They also don’t know that the location Bucky gave them is an abandoned summer home thirty miles to the northeast, and that it’s rigged with explosives for when Krakken’s men arrive.

“Soldat, I would like for you to clean the blood off the shield. It will make for a good memory later.” Nicolai begins whistling to himself as he turns and leaves.

Anatoliy smirks again. “Make sure it is clean – I want to see my face in it when you are finished. Report to us when you are finished.”

“Yes, Kapitan.” 

How the hell does someone end up like this? Bucky shakes his head ever so slightly at their cheerful brand of evil. He’ll never understand such cruelty, but then, he supposes he doesn’t have to. It’s just his job to end it. 

Which he’ll do with a fucking smile on his face after he gets her out of this shit pile.

***

He hears her screams from his place polishing the shield. 

“Don’t move, Barnes.” Stark’s now seemingly ever-present voice in his ear is barely heard over the sound of Bucky’s rushing pulse.

“I can’t do this. I can’t.” He stands, intent on going to her although he has no idea what he’ll do when he gets there.

“Don’t you fucking move, Barnes! They aren’t hurting her, they’re just…fuck, those _assholes_ …they served her that goddamn prop on a fucking silver platter. They’re not physically hurting her, though. Stay where you are.” 

“Because that’s somehow better? I can’t _fucking_ do this, Stark! I can’t fucking sit here and listen to her scream and just _leave_ her in there!” Every instinct is telling him to move, even though his head knows that Stark is right.

“Yes, you can, Barnes! You can because you have to! Suck it up and deal with it, goddamn it! She’s still got the collar on, you’ll kill her if you move now!”

Bucky swallows his roar of rage as his entire body shakes. He paces, but there isn’t much space – it’s a small room, filled with various cleaning supplies and a table. This is most likely where the silver is polished. And that goddamn shashka. 

“You’re getting her out tonight, do you hear me? Tonight! It’s a few more hours and she’ll be free. Don’t blow it now!”

Another scream pierces his heart. Bucky cries her name as he falls to his knees, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to keep his hands from punching his way through the door. He thought that what he’d had to do before was bad, but this was worse. So much worse. It sounds like her soul is dying, and he wonders if maybe she is.

“Breathe, Barnes! They’re sedating her now. Those fucking bastards, I’m gonna…those _fucking_ bastards…Okay Barnes, she’s sedated.”

Bucky just nods from his place on the floor. She may be silent now, but those screams will be burned into his memory forever.

So will the shame of not going to her when she needed him most.

“Barnes, there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent that. Nothing you could’ve done to save her from that – at least, nothing that wouldn’t have gotten you both killed.” Stark’s voice is shaky – Bucky distantly wonders if he feels the same guilt and shame.

“What –“ Bucky tries to speak, but his voice cracks and he has to start over. “What’s happening now?”

“She’s lying on the floor – I can see that she’s breathing. They’re….they’re eating dinner.”

Of course they are.

It takes roughly twenty minutes to regain his composure. Stark keeps talking to him, and Bucky is grateful for the distraction even if it doesn’t really work. When he finally stands, the room spins for a moment. He blinks it back and grabs the shield before making his way into the dining room.

“I’ve cleaned and polished the shield as you asked, Komandir. Where would you like it?” It’s almost impossible to continue the charade – but Stark’s right.

_A few more hours and she’ll be free._

“Just set it down for now, Soldat. I’m afraid you have missed the entertainment; milaya moya reacted stronger than expected to her gift, and needed sedation. Get her out of here and report back to me. Then you may eat.” Nicolai returns to his dessert, completely unaffected by the woman lying on the ground less than 20 feet away from him.

“Yes, Komandir.” Bucky almost heaves a sigh of relief at the command – this he can do. He kneels before gently gathering her into his arms. Her eyes are closed, but there are tears running down her cheeks. If it’s possible, his heart breaks even more. Or maybe it just ceases to exist; he certainly can’t feel it anymore.

Bucky brings her back to her room, and despite the circumstances he can’t help but be impressed at the amount of damage she caused; she actually put a spiderweb crack in the bulletproof window.

_Good girl – you’re such a fighter. Please, Sweetheart, please keep fighting…_

He reluctantly sets her down before covering her with a blanket.

A few more hours. Just a few more hours.

It’s hard to leave her, again, but if all goes to plan, it’s the last time she’ll be alone in this fucking room.

Just a few more hours.

He’s gonna get his girl back.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This part is extremely violent and includes graphic depictions of death. Please do not read this if that makes you uncomfortable - this part does not need to be read in order to understand the rest of WEMtbB, it's just here for those that want to know what happened when Bucky took his revenge.

Bucky stands in the middle of the blood-soaked forest, surveying the damage. He should probably feel horror at the brutality, but he feels nothing but satisfaction. These fuckers had it coming.

Anatoliy and Grigory are not among the dead.

Yet.

When Yakov’s men had come through the trees, Anatoliy and Grigory turned and ran. And since some of Yakov’s men are sharpshooters, they deliberately used their skills not to kill, but to herd Anatoliy and Grigory away from their cars. They’ll have to make the journey back on foot.

Fucking cowards. They aren’t so brave when they don’t hold the key to Bucky’s heart.

“They are probably going back to home to regroup.” Yakov walks up to him, nodding in the direction of the manor.

“Yep.” Bucky makes quick work of cleaning his knives on one of the coats of the fallen Hounds before returning them to their sheathes. 

“We can take their vehicles back to their manor.”

Bucky turns to Yakov with clear eyes. “Go ahead, take Stark and Barton and get a head start. Just leave Nicolai for me. I have some hunting to do.”

Yakov’s grin is grim. “Save your strength and ride with us. They have nowhere else to go, they will come eventually.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No. I want them to know fear. I want them to know that death is following them. After what they put her through…” He exhales as he glances at the other man, “and what they put you, Mikhail, and Izolda through, they don’t deserve anything less.”

Yakov is clearly not about to argue – he knows firsthand the evil these men are capable of. “Okay. Keep in touch with us, let us know if you need anything.”

Bucky nods sharply as he walks to his fallen motorcycle and briefly inspects the snow tires for damage before pulling it upright. “Steve, how is she doing?”

The reply through his earpiece is immediate. “She’s hanging in there, Buck. They’re still working on her.”

“Let me know if anything changes.” He straddles the motorcycle, rubs his tired eyes, and starts it up. 

She’ll be okay. She _has_ to be okay.

* * *

Bucky grew up in Brooklyn, not the countryside, so the traditional idea of hunting isn’t something he’d grown up with. He’d learned a lot with the Commandos, though. The snow helps, too, especially since neither Anatoliy nor Grigory are making any sort of attempt to hide their tracks.

It takes Bucky less than five minutes to find their footprints and catch up with them, and they’re still miles away from their home. Although part of him is dying to get back to his girl, to hold her and whisper to her that no one will ever hurt her again, he needs to eliminate the threat first. There’s also a part of him that he hadn’t known existed until these past few weeks – this part screams for vengeance. 

Bucky had never taken pleasure in killing before, not during the war and certainly not during his tortured and brainwashed imprisonment as the Fist of HYDRA, but now? He’s bloodthirsty. Vengeful. Completely, utterly _enraged_. Craving violence like a thirsty man in the desert craves water.

He’s the Soldier.

It scares him, just a little, to think that after all the lives he’s taken, after all the guilt he’s carried for so long and for which he’s tried to atone, that he’s now willfully and almost gleefully become the cruel, murderous monster that so many had assumed him to be. But then he remembers her naked fear, her bruises, her empty eyes and broken spirit when they killed Mikhail, her terrified and tortured screams the night they served her the fake head as they _laughed_.

He remembers the things they made him do to her, how they made him beat her and render her unconscious. How he had to pretend that he didn’t care, that didn’t love her, that he didn’t even _know_ her as they continually threatened her with physical and sexual assault. As they threatened to use their Soldat for such assaults.

As sick as he knows it is, Bucky’s going to enjoy this.

He knows they know he’s there. He follows at a distance for one mile. Two. Lets them run through the snow, imagining the things he’ll do to them, how he’ll kill them.

There’s something he needs to do first. “Steve?”

He patiently waits for a response in his earpiece until Wilson’s voice comes across. “She’s good, man, she’s stable and we got her patched up and she’s out now. She should be good to go until we get her back stateside. Galina is one hell of a nurse.”

Complete, absolute relief flows through him – Bucky has to swallow hard against the lump that’s suddenly in his throat. “Alright. If I’m not back by the time she wakes up, tell her I love her and that I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Will do. You’re off to do what I think you’re gonna do, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Give ‘em hell.”

“That’s the plan. And Sam? Thank you.” Bucky doesn’t wait for the response before shutting off his comms – she’s safe, she’s stable, and she’s got the people Bucky trusts most watching over her.

Now he can do his job.

Bucky speeds up the motorcycle as he unholsters a gun. They try to run faster, they even try to split up, but it makes no difference to the Soldier.

He will get what he came for. 

He lets them run until Grigory finally turns around to take a shot. Without missing a beat Bucky fires two rounds, shooting out both of Grigory’s knees. The bastard isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so Bucky swerves and goes to find Anatoliy.

It doesn’t take long. 

Anatoliy had the sense to try to hide, but not the sense to make any attempt to hide his footprints in the snow.

The Soldier is well aware of how fear makes people stupid, and he’s no stranger to using it to his advantage.

He stops the motorcycle, kicking down the kickstand before leisurely swinging his leg over the seat, whistling as he does so. Bucky is vaguely aware that it’s an old Russian tune, one of the many that his former handlers would hum to themselves as they tortured him. As they strapped him to their goddamn chair.

Bucky smirks as he unsheathes a knife with frosty metal fingers. The plates of his arm begin to shift.

In his peripheral vision, he can see Anatoliy slowly emerge from behind the tree stump he’d been using for cover. The other man’s gun begins to rise, but before Anatoliy can pull the trigger Bucky pivots and throws his knife.

“Somebody forgot I’m ambidextrous.” The taunt comes out in a grotesque sing-song voice, and Bucky can’t help but wonder if Anatoliy has already forgotten the knife fight they’d made him do on his first night in their manor. “You should have killed me when you had the chance, Anatoliy, but it seems that you keep making the same mistake of underestimating me and overestimating yourself.”

He’s pretty sure Anatoliy didn’t hear him – after all, he just lost his hand at the wrist to Bucky’s knife. As Anatoliy stares in shock at the bleeding stump, Bucky walks casually by to retrieve his knife, kicking away the gun and stepping over the dismembered hand as he pulls the bloody blade from the tree it’s embedded in.

“Or maybe it’s just that you thought you would always hold power over me by holding the woman I love hostage.” Bucky lets loose a humorless chuckle as he shakes his head. “You were right when you assumed I wouldn’t hurt you as long as you held her.” He turns, putting frigid grey eyes on his prey as he circles around to face Anatoliy. “But we got her out, didn’t we.” The tiniest movement catches his eye, and Bucky whips his booted foot up into Anatoliy’s hip. As the other man falls, screaming in agony, Bucky gracefully goes to one knee and takes the gun that sits in the holster at Anatoliy’s waist, just above his now shattered hip.

He’d almost forgotten how easily normal men crumble beneath his attacks.

“I’d suggest you not go for any more weapons. Not that it’ll make a difference in the long run.” He shrugs before returning to the motorcycle to dig through the compartment at the back. Finding what he wants, he saunters back to Anatoliy. 

Pathetic. The man that was formally so bold, so fucking casually cruel, whimpers on the ground. “I told you, Anatoliy. Taking her would be your biggest mistake.”

Wide green eyes stare at him in horror as he roughly grabs Anatoliy’s arm. For the second time tonight he makes a tourniquet, only this time he’s not careful. There’s no gentleness or love in his actions as he swiftly stops the bleeding with a plastic zip tie. It’s pulled so tight that it’s already cutting into what’s left of Anatoliy’s wrist, but those are just surface cuts. 

“You don’t get to die yet.”

“What are you going to do?” Ah, the coward finally speaks.

Bucky feels his face twist into a harsh smile, but he doesn’t answer. He simply walks around and releases a violent blow to the back of Anatoliy’s skull, knocking him unconscious. He doesn’t give a single shit about Anatoliy’s welfare or comfort, so he leaves him there to go back to Grigory.

He finds Grigory less than 20 feet from where he left him. Not surprising considering it’s pretty hard to get anywhere with both knees blown out.

Grigory fires his gun, but Bucky stops the bullets with his metal arm as he continues to approach the increasingly desperate man. Desperate enough to empty his entire clip of bullets. Stupid, too. A swift kick to the left side of his face is enough to disarm him, not that it’s even necessary, and the Soldier reaches down to savagely take Grigory by the throat. Slowly, so slowly, he lifts the man from the ground, relishing in the useless way Grigory’s fingers claw at the unforgiving metal. Terror-filled mismatched eyes stare into his own, but he feels no mercy.

Not for these men. Not after what they did.

They really shouldn’t have messed with his girl.

Bucky looks around with an analytic eye, weighing his options. Finding a tree with a sharp, broken branch nearly six feet off the ground, he makes his decision.

Grigory fights, of course, but it takes little effort on Bucky’s part to drag the other man by the throat to the tree. Grigory’s gaze had followed Bucky’s, and he knows, he _knows_ what’s about to happen and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do about it.

With brutal efficiency Bucky closes the distance to the tree, lifts Grigory off the ground, and with a single, violent thrust of his metal arm pins the man to the tree by impaling him through the right shoulder. Sharp pieces of the broken branch show through the front of Grigory’s jacket – it’s painful, but not enough to kill. Not yet, anyway. Bucky was careful to avoid the heart, spine, and lungs. 

The Soldier takes a step back to watch as Grigory struggles, kicking his feet as they hang a few inches off the ground. Grigory says nothing, and his pale eye is swollen shut from the earlier kick although his dark eye is wide open. Of course, it’s impossible to speak since Bucky crushed his voice box. All Grigory can do is wait.

Wait for the inevitable.

“You threatened to rape her.” The Soldier cocks his head to the side. “Repeatedly.”

Bucky pulls a knife from the sheath at his thigh. 

“You entered the room she was in and tried to follow through with your threats.” He takes a step closer. “If I hadn’t come in when I did, you would have.”

Grigory can do nothing but stare back in terror.

“She was innocent. She’d done nothing wrong.” He allows himself a moment to think of her – of how she’d loved him without reserve, her gentle fingers as she’d sing his lullaby, her fierce way of accepting and caring for those around her whether or not they’d earned it. She was _innocent_. And this man touched her. _Hurt_ her. The rage boils until it hits the breaking point. “YOU TRIED TO RAPE THE WOMAN I LOVE!” The Soldier’s scream echoes through the otherwise silent woods as he pulls his arm back before swinging it forward, burying the six-and-a-half-inch serrated blade into the soft flesh of Grigory’s crotch.

Bucky leaves it there, leaves Grigory pinned to a tree like a bug to a board. Just like the fucking insect he is.

He estimates that it could take up to three hours for Grigory to die, but die he will. There’s no point in sticking around. No one could save him, even if there was someone willing to try.

It’s time to collect Anatoliy and head to the manor.

* * *

It’s an absolute bloodbath at the Krakkens’ manor. Bodies are scattered in the snow – Yakov and his men, Stark, and Barton have been thorough and concise. They’re not done yet - the sounds of fighting echo over the snow as Bucky dismounts the motorcycle. It doesn’t come as a surprise, considering how many men the Krakkens’ had at their disposal. 

“Well,” Bucky mutters as he begins untying a barely conscious Anatoliy from the back of the motorcycle, “I suppose it’s time to haul your crusty ass inside.” 

There’s no point in being gentle – Anatoliy doesn’t deserve it anyway – so Bucky simply hauls him by the collar of his jacket and drags him inside. Three Hounds rush him the moment he’s through the door, but Bucky unceremoniously drops Anatoliy like the sack of shit he is and makes quick work of the attackers; disarming the first and taking his knife before crushing his windpipe, slitting the second’s throat, and putting the blade of the knife through the eye socket of the third.

The Soldier surveys what he sees. His teammates and Yakov’s men are drastically outnumbered, but still the Hounds are losing ground. Numbers don’t always mean much when the opponents have conviction, Hawkeye, and Iron Man.

And now the Winter Soldier.

Bucky finds a closet and throws Anatoliy inside before breaking the doorknob. This fucker isn’t going anywhere. 

A second knife finds its way from an enemy’s hand and into Bucky’s, and he jumps in.

There’s no concept of time or number of people that have fallen to his hands as he fights, he just fights. Maims. Kills. Blood sprays, the floors get slippery with entrails. The air is thick with the smell of blood and sweat, as well as with the cries of grown men realizing the gravity of their sins much too late.

No one needs to be spared, so he doesn’t need to discriminate. The only person that had shown her any kindness was already killed at the hand of these monsters.

Just like that, it’s over. 

But it’s _not_.

“Well that was…messy.” Stark is suddenly beside him. “But efficient.”

Bucky scans the area – No sign of Nicolai.

Yakov strides over, blood dripping from a gash just above his ear. “We’ve secured all areas except the dining hall. The coward has locked himself in there with his favorite Hounds.”

Bucky shakes his head. “He’s not hiding. He’s waiting for me. Do you have a number of how many are in there with him?”

Yakov shrugs. “Fifteen, maybe twenty. Nothing you cannot handle.”

Bucky nods. “Thank you. Anatoliy’s in the closet.” He tilts his head in the direction of the door. “He’s all yours – do what you want with him.”

The grin that spreads across Yakov’s face would send chills up anyone’s spine. “I will make Izolda and Mikhail proud.”

Bucky watches Yakov walk to where Anatoliy is hidden. He can’t muster one ounce of pity for the man who will undoubtably be tortured for the foreseeable future; Yakov isn’t going to let him die easily, not after what the man did to his fiancée.

“Ready to finish this?” Barton’s voice breaks into Bucky’s thoughts. 

Bucky doesn’t answer, he merely begins taking the stairs leading up to the dining hall two at a time.

He knows without looking that Stark and Barton are flanking him, and that some of Yakov’s men are following; they’re more than ready to rid their town of the disease that’s been steadily eating away at their families’ well-being and livelihoods. 

The double doors to the dining hall are closed and locked as if that will stop the coming vengeance.

“Alright, well I’m sure this would be fun but I gotta go mess with their tech – you’re not gonna let me get a hit in with Bullwinkle anyway, and you already took Rocky out. So…” Stark shrugs. “You guys have this covered. But before I go, allow me.” He steps up and does away with the lock with a single, well aimed blast.

Bucky marches forward, kicking the door open and striding through. The waiting Hounds attack, but the Soldier has already tasted blood. As vicious as they are, these men cannot stop him. No one can.

He does what he needs to do to get through them and no more – they are not his purpose here, so he will leave them for his team.

“You. Get up.” Bucky’s growl practically rumbles throughout the room – a thunderous warning of the approaching storm, made more ominous by his purposeful stride.

Nicolai looks up from his customary seat at the table. He’s polishing his shashka and by all appearances is completely unbothered. “You do not order me around.”

“I can kill you where you sit, doesn’t make a difference to me.”

Nicolai sighs heavily as he stands, as if he is more annoyed than anything. “You are not going to kill me, Soldat. You will try, and you will fail. And I will not kill you, because you are going to suffer for what you have done. I will hunt down milaya moya and I will make good on every single promise I made, and when I am through with her you will watch her die a slow, agonizing death. And then I will rebuild my empire from nothing – I built this from nothing, I can do it again.”

Out of nowhere, thirty or so more Hounds pour into the room through the windows and an entrance that was hidden behind a bookshelf. Bucky stands a little taller – these are Nicolai’s best fighters. Bucky had been so pissed earlier that he hadn’t noticed that none of them were among the dead.

The Soldier analyzes the information and puts the pieces together. It didn’t bother Nicolai at all that he’d sacrificed the lives of all his other men – they were there to serve as a distraction and tire everyone out. These men are the best fighters, and they’re fresh and well rested.

Nicolai doesn’t even care that his brother is dead; he’d sent Anatoliy out to collect his Soldat but kept his best men here, most likely assuming they would all die in the attempt and that Bucky would return to the manor. They figured they would secure their Asset and go back to search for her later. Bucky quickly surveys the room – his team was massively outnumbered before, but they were fresh and fighting on the strength of their convictions. Exhaustion is starting to show on the faces of Yakov’s men, and as they count the number of Hounds their eyes grow desperate. Worried. Even Barton clenches his jaw.

It doesn’t shake Bucky’s resolve – he doesn’t plan to lose. If he kills Nicolai, this is all over; the Hounds are excellent fighters but they are ultimately minions, not masterminds. They won’t be a threat without their master.

“You’ll be too dead to rebuild anything, Nicolai.”

“Oh,” he begins as he starts swinging his shashka in an elegant figure eight pattern, “I do not think so.”

The Soldier studies his movements for a moment – the shashka is a brutal but graceful weapon. The motions look showy but are meant to confuse and mesmerize the opponent; a simple twist of the wrist can change the blade’s trajectory into a fatal blow. It is clear from Nicolai’s even, graceful movements that he’s a master at his craft.

So is the Soldier. 

Bucky reaches behind and unsheathes both knives from his back.

Nicolai stops his motions to laugh. “You really mean to fight me with a couple of little knives?”

There’s no response from Bucky as he flips the knife in his left hand to take a reverse grip. These knives don’t have crossguards so they aren’t exactly ideal in this situation, but four-inch blades are just as deadly as a shashka in his hands. 

A grotesque laugh comes from Nicolai as he resumes swinging his shashka. Nicolai comes from a family of formidable warriors – he won’t be easy to defeat.

But Bucky’s skills were forged in the frozen tears of Lake Cocytus, deep within the ninth level of hell.

The Soldier waits patiently; he’s not going to make the first move. He watches Nicolai as he listens to the sounds of fighting from the other men – it’s impossible to tell what’s going on without turning around, so he’s just going to have to block out the noise for now.

Without warning, Nicolai lunges forward. His blade cuts up at an angle, but Bucky merely leans back to avoid the blade before quickly ducking down and into Nicolai’s guard, slashing his left knife across Nicolai’s abdomen.

First blood.

Nicolai might be surprised, but he hides it well as he launches another attack and then another, seemingly tireless in his efforts. Bucky parries the blows with his own, slicing in with his own attacks but Nicolai manages to avoid them.

Their battle continues, each comfortable with his skillset and confident of the outcome. Sparks fly when blade meets blade and the vibrations of the impacts would be enough to cause less proficient fighters to drop their weapons.

Nicolai watches for Bucky to make a mistake as he relentlessly swings his shashka, but the Soldier is too thoroughly trained. Nicolai is too, but he doesn’t have the benefit of a supersoldier’s endurance. In a particularly brutal move, Nicolai swings the shashka down, twists, and then thrusts back up again. Bucky blocks the upswing, and there’s a loud metallic clang as the sword collides with his metal arm. Using his right hand, he quickly jabs the knife up and stabs into Nicolai’s left shoulder. Nicolai jumps back, furious. Bucky doesn’t miss that he’s panting with the exertion. He’s had his fun. It’s time to end this. 

The Soldier smirks.

This time, it’s Bucky that mounts attack after attack. He almost effortlessly breaches Nicolai’s guard again and again, slicing, slashing, stabbing. Nicolai lifts his shaskha, intending to bring it down upon Bucky’s head, but the Soldier drops his knife and it instead meets the palm of his metal hand. Nearly invincible silver fingers close around the blade, and with a grunt he rips the shashka out of Nicolai’s grip.

Tossing the shashka lightly and catching it neatly by the grip, he cuts once, twice. 

Two arms fall to the ground with wet, sickening plops.

Before Nicolai can so much as blink, Bucky swings his right fist, still holding the knife, into Nicolai’s temple. 

For a long moment after his unconscious body hits the floor, it’s as if someone sucked the air out of the room; it’s eerily quiet until someone - most likely one of Yakov’s men - screeches a battle cry.

It’s over in a matter of minutes – Bucky and his team fight with renewed vigor and viciousness and relentlessly cut the remaining Hounds down one by one. There’s no need for mercy. They watch as Bucky disembowels the last man before turning and stalking back toward Nicolai. 

Nicolai has regained consciousness and tries to sit – he really should have stayed down. The Soldier doesn’t slow his stride as he grabs Nicolai by the hair, drags him over to the table, and forces him to sit in the chair they always reserved for her.

The same spot where they had continually subjected her to their favorite kinds of torture. The chair she was sitting in when Nicolai threatened her, when Anatoliy touched her.

Where she sat as they laughed at her every flinch and cheered at her reaction to being served a severed head.

Nicolai opens his mouth to speak, but before any sound can come out his jaw is broken by a sharp punch to his face.

Wide, hate-filled green eyes stare at Bucky. “I told you not to do this. I told you that using her to get to me would be your biggest mistake. I told you.” He roughly pries open Nicolai’s jaw. “I also told you not to call her milaya moya, didn’t I?” Bucky doesn’t bother waiting for the answer that will never come, he just calmly proceeds to cut out Nicolai’s tongue and throws it into the fireplace. 

“You hurt her. Made _me_ hurt her,” the Soldier whispers, unmindful of the pathetic, gurgling whimpers coming from Nicolai. “You took her away from her children. You took her away from _me_. She’s my everything – she’s my world. She’s my fucking _heart_. You took my heart away from me, you bastard.”

A cold smile crosses Bucky’s face as his left hand comes up to rest against Nicolai’s chest; he can feel the man’s heart weakly hammering out a fearful beat as Nicolai shakes his head in either a plea or denial. Bucky doesn’t really care which; it doesn’t matter. They wanted the Winter Soldier. They got him.

“So I’m gonna take yours.”

Metal fingers push slowly and deliberately through skin, muscle, and bone. Nicolai’s desperate screams echo throughout the dining hall, just like hers did. Naked fear shows on his face, just like it did on hers. Tears of pain run down his cheeks, just like they did hers. 

The Soldier’s searching fingers reach the heart and he screams his rage as he squeezes, twists, and pulls.

Bucky carelessly tosses the mangled organ into the fireplace alongside the tongue as he stares down at the slain monster, watching as it slowly slides to the left before falling off the chair to the floor.

The hall is completely silent with the exception of Bucky’s heavy breathing, and it stays that way until footsteps start making their way to him.

“Well, that was certainly something.” Stark stands next to Bucky as he surveys the damage before raising his hand to shoot a small blast into the fireplace. “I, uh, I’ll be leaving that part out when I give Capsicle the rundown of what happened.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He just stares into the fire now burning brightly in the fireplace. 

“Hey, so I found Dr. McCreepy. I don’t know if you had any plans for him, but I kinda did a thing.”

Bucky exhales a shaky breath before replying, “Yeah? What’s that?” His voice is surprisingly even.

“He was hiding in his lab like the ugly little troll he is. So I kinda sorta accidentally strapped him to a table and forced him to take some of his poison.” Stark turns to Bucky before putting a hand on his shoulder. “They’re never gonna hurt our girl, or anyone else, ever again.”

Bucky nods as he swallows hard. He’s a little scared at how easy that was to do, at how he took pleasure in taking lives tonight.

He still isn’t sorry.

He’d figured out early on during this ordeal that protecting her brings out the worst in him, and just like when he realized that, he’s still okay with it as long as it brings her home safely.

_Whatever it takes…_

“She’s waiting for you, Barnes,” Barton murmurs gently, having approached on silent feet. “Let’s go.”

Bucky nods weakly and walks out of the hall and out of the manor without a backwards glance. As he steps into the frigid Siberian night, the release of the pressure from the past few weeks hits him hard. He barely makes it to the bushes next to the walkway before he vomits, and he has to kneel and brace his metal hand in the snow to support himself as he heaves and purges the horror and fear that have been his constant companions.

It’s just as well – the snow helps remove most of Nicolai’s blood.

No one judges him, no one makes any quips or jokes. There’s a warm hand on his shoulder – Yakov’s – offering silent support as he gathers himself.

“Thank you,” Yakov murmurs, “for bringing justice to our town. I know that what they did cost you greatly.”

Bucky can’t bring himself to reply as he stands, turning to see Yakov’s men watching him with nothing but respect in their eyes. A chorus of ‘thank yous’ and respectful nods come from the men as they depart; despite the sober air, there are several smiles.

“That’s our ride,” Barton nods to what looks to be an armored pickup truck. “Here,” Bucky looks over to see Barton offering him a piece of gum, “it’ll help rinse out your mouth.”

“Thanks,” Bucky mumbles, taking it gratefully. He climbs in to the passenger side of the truck, Stark hops in the back with his legs dangling over the tailgate, and Clint gets behind the wheel.

“Let’s get you back to your girl.”


End file.
